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Kilroy
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« on: February 06, 2008, 10:27:18 pm » |
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So the long, poorly written attempt at humour that follows is based on a Saturday afternoon when I offered to pick up a fountain dispenser for Sodaman. So I present it here for your amazement, and hopefully amusement...
So I offer to pick up a soda dispenser for a fellow board member. Saturday was free, was goingto rearrange sock drawer, but it can wait. I get directions, and a “hope the seller doesn’t freak you out. She was um..er..uh..different. I want to ask, “ Different, as in Lizzie Borden different? “ In hindsight, I should have.
Input directions in Google maps. Google maps asks me if I meant to look for Hartford Street. No I type back, I typed Harfor. Google replies Hartford, Gartfor, it’s no skin off my nose. Realize Microsoft is no longer evil; it’s been replaced by Google. Wonder why I am talking to my computer screen. Wonder why Google can tell me what’s in my wallet, but gives directions ending with, “Well Good luck. We think this is the route.”
Road trip. So far so good.
- Turn on Harfor, shake head at Goth Sticker pasted on street sign. Find the house, knock .no answer, keep knocking. No answer. Get a weird feeling, I actually guessed the time I would be there, Rita agreed. Ask mailman if I'm on Hartfor. Seems a few blocks down from Hartfor Avenue is Hartford. Fortunately he tells me to go back 8-9 blocks. I find the correct house. I make note to hunt down idiot who fudged the sign. I also realize pattern of street names. On the way I cross Main, Mai, Elm, El, Allen, Alle. Come to realize this is a better idea than my hometown, which names the streets after the trees it knocks down and replace with Tract Housing.
Already mentioned Rita, She really was a nice person after we hung out for a while. And we did. More on this later so the dispenser is in the garage, she suggests backing car up to detached garage. No problem. Older sub- narrow driveways between houses, I am carefully watching the house on the other side of the driveway so not to hit it. Miss the house; clip the gate with rear bumper. Rita offers to back car in, I hand her keys and last of my masculinity.
Garage door doesn't open, inside front is blocked with car parts, assuming from half torn apart car inside. I go through side door. I never realized these puppies are big. I am trying to mental picture if the dispenser will fit in a Grand Am. Kicking myself, I asked a buddy with a mini van if he wanted a road trip, he had an outing with kids and was tied up until 2 pm. This would have saved me the next half hour
So Dispenser is big. And bolted to plywood, in turn plywood bolted to what was once a plant stand. Decide I'll buy a new plant stand since it won't fit in the car as one piece. Rita goes looking for wrenches. Finds metric ones, none fit. I drag the stand to the side door, one window, lights don’t work in garage. Some light is better than no light. Rita mentions boyfriend/fiancé is a mechanic, and can fix bumper. I wonder why a mechanic only has 3 metric wrenches.. Idecide he uses them to do body work.
Eventually I get bolts undone. Mano a Machino. The bolts we managed to loosen held the plywood to the table. This after dragging the stand out into the yard where there was light. Rita is chatting merrily away, about what I have no clue. Maybe if I listened harder she may have mentioned look out for the hole their dog dug off the sidewalk. She didn't mention it; I came across it with my foot. I manage to find the hole with both feet a few more times. I realize this really blows my chance to audition for “So You Think you Can Dance”
So I remmeber I needed to clean out back seat, Shuffle work stuff, training books and junk from seat to trunk. We look it over, decide it's not going to fit in the trunk, Rita offers to move car again to side of garage I am holding the dispenser, it's a 10 yr old Pontiac, if she drives off i won't sleep.
Look at trunk, Damn GM engineers, Who needs a trapazoid trunk? We decide on back seat again. Kick myself again, since I tossed the stuff out of the back seat into the trunk, then back into the back seat. Ponder odds of knocking out window of 4th door, Decide again this was a pretty stupid idea. Again.
With a little twisting and contorting I haven't done since I was in my teens, manage to get the dispenser in trunk. It takes the whole trunk. I try to remember if you can get a ticket for having your trunk lid straight up. Decide I'll find out. Rita provides wire to tie down trunk. "This won't break, we use it to tie the gate on our !%@$ on our dog's kennel. I find hole again, and realize why dog kennel needs to tie shut with 22 gauge electrical wire.
I thank Rita , She says thanks, and a thank you to Sodaman and offers to back out car again. I take last shreds of my guy ness and drive off on my own.
Other than I-94 going to one lane, and wondering if people are waving because a 1950’s soda fountain machine filled my trunk, the lids are flying off, or they are going to cut me off ride back is almost sane, Keep looking in rearview mirror, not seeing anything but trunk lid. Assume no loud noises mean it’s still pretty secure. Listen to AM radio news radio for traffic reports of a fountain dispenser in the freeway just to be on the safe side.
Make it to I-75 when a buddy calls. He is helping me restore my Seeburg Jukebox, wants to share amusing story that occurred at Lowe’s while he was getting wood for the juke cabinet. Ran across a clerk who refused to help, and told him, No I’ll sell the chewed up panels, so I’m not going to get a hi-lo to bring down another stack. Manager hears of story, as my friend is stomping toward the door, and lets Manager know what was said. Manager apologies, tells him he has a staff of customer service challenged staff, and will move the clerk to the paint department. Manager also sells him $45 sheet of Oak for $8.00 I am listening to story, tell him my events and don’t notice my lane becomes exit only for 8 mile Road ( yeah, the one in the EminEm movie. Yeah, it’s a scary ride.) . The two Pepsi trucks must have noticed the Coke machine, don’t let me cut over. I get off at 8 Mile. Decide to catch John R, (no, it was always John R, not John Raymond. We don’t believe in truncating street names, . Well except for John R. We will however, change the name of the same road to mess with the visitors. But I digress. Now I’m in familiar territory. Just after the exit ramp, I see the on ramp. I floor it, pretending my trunk lid may work as a spoiler. Pepsi truck drivers look at me weird when I merge back on - And cut them off. They applaud my creative driving by honking and waving. I applaud Pepsi for hiring the disabled - notice only one finger on each hand they are waving at me, I finish my story with the “cool, I’m back on the freeway ending”. My friend says he has to hang up, or he will pee his pants from laughing. He also tells me my story is better.
Make it home. Back the car in with out Rita’s help. Wondering how the dispenser is coming out without damage. Wonder if Sodaman also wants my 10 yr old Pontiac if it doesn't come out. Discover the dispenser is two parts, and the base stays in the trunk after I slid it off the track. Wonder if I broke it, and wondering how to tell Sodaman. Notice the track lip on the top well. Decide I’m an idiot.
Receive PM that evening asking if it went well. I PM back with events of the day. I receive a told you so email from Googlemaps. I decide Mapquest is better, until I later try to get directions to JohnieG's house. But that's another story....
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