These are touching tales of life, death and hardened carbon steel. They are personal stories, and I could relate to many of them since I'm rarely without my Leatherman Super Tool®. In fact, while reading these heroic accounts, I was reminded of a recent trip where the StarChamber traveled to Mexico for a week of hardboiled adventure, and more than once I was grateful to have had my trusty Leatherman by my side. ***
From the moment we arrived in Aeropuerto Benito Juaréz my senses were on alert. We were there for not more than ten minutes when things got rough at the baggage carousel. I had reached for my bag when a man started shouting, "Señor, señor! Stop! That is my bag!" Instinctively, I unfastened the heavy snap on my Leatherman belt holster, just in case. I double checked the baggage tag - he was right, I had the wrong bag. I handed it over, and subtly closed the sheath on my Leatherman. No trouble this time, but I was prepared... A few evenings later we were relaxing in a charming gothic bar called, El Divino, and sampling some of Mexico's finest tequilas. The Minister of Central Dogma had ordered yet another round of margaritas and the mood among the StarChamber-ites was festive. A buoyant Zap was pontificating on the finer points of Mexican agavé when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that behind the bar, our amiable waiter Manuel, had caught the ruffled collar of his flouncy shirt in the workings of the high speed blender while mixing our libations. In a single motion I leapt from my seat, drew my handy Leatherman, and vaulted neatly over the bar. Without hesitation, I released the 4 inch straight blade and with one razor sharp swipe freed the bewildered Manuel from an icy strangulation. No sooner had I wiped my brow with the remnants of Manuel's collar did I notice a panicked Paracelsus in the throws of performing the Heimlich maneuver on Zap, who had (apparently) begun choking on the worm from a bottle of Mezcal that he downed upon seeing my (no doubt) impressive gesture of saving Manuel and the margaritas. With no time to spare I pulled a ballpoint pen from the bar, snapped it open with the Leatherman pliers and carefully trimmed a 3/4 inch piece of clear tube from inside the pen. I vaulted back over the bar - this time in a precise double scissors that I had learned from Bart Thomas when we competed together during the Nationals - I nailed the landing, but lost points for the dozen margarita glasses I kicked on the way over. I reached Zap with a short, sharp blade drawn, the sterilized tube from the pen (I dowsed it with whisky before I cleared the bar), ready to perform an emergency tracheotomy, when "Ppfff", Zap expelled the worm and it sailed across the room thanks to the persistent efforts of Paracelsus's chest thumping. The worm, which flew over two or three tables, landed softly on the back of Manuel's head which was resting in his hands, face down on the bar in exhaustion. As you can imagine, the StarChamber was thankful that I had my Leatherman that night. Spirits were low the next day - all that tequila and excitement came with a price for the StarChamber. For whatever reason, I'm not really affected by drinking tequila, so I did my best to cheer the gang up on our long van ride into the mountains by singing Appalachian folk songs (I just love those) and using my Leatherman to carve funny little animals out of some scrap wood I found in the back of the van. It seemed to do the trick, by the time we rolled into Taxco, the whole van was singing and laughing, even Paracelsus whose head was pounding like Popocatépetl after a human sacrifice. So thank you Leatherman, you are a trip saver. Mexico thanks you. Manuel thanks you. And of course, the StarChamber thanks you.
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