Hello Collectors,
Now, part 2: The story continues......
So, just for clarification, my definition of running in downtown Toronto is suspect.
Phrases such as a locomotive out of control, or an airplane in severe turbulence, or a reenactment of the Frank Slide may be more accurate.
So a run down one block, then a left across the street to the end of another, ultimately to where the car should be parked?
Now, it’s 33 degrees C. with humidity at an all time high, I’m soaked in sweat, carrying two heavy cases and can’t find the car. It is nowhere in sight.
What were those explicit directions from Mike? Or should I say what were my explicit comments to Mike, cab to airport etc.
I’m second guessing myself and I am exhausted. I know I can't carry these two 40 pound postcard cases, and look for the car at the same time.
So cases in hand, I managed to get back to the show venue, drop them off, and then make another run to find the car, which I luckily found.
Just where Mike said it was.
Well, then I take a second run back to the venue, two cases captured and a sprint to the car. I took out the keys and attempted to open the trunk. I jiggle the key as best I could, then another key and another. Not a remote chance the trunk would open.
Oh!! I’m thinking, "what about the car door, do I have the wrong set of keys?" Thankfully though, the driver's side opened, a great relief as I threw the cases in the back seat.
Another third run to the venue, but it was too late.
Four of the ugliest green boxes you might have ever seen, were sitting on the entrance steps looking to get picked up.
So now what? There was no way I could carry all four cases, and besides that, my arms were stretched to the max and weaker than weak.
Frankly, at this point, I’m delirious. Luckily though, right at that moment, the front door of the postcard venue opened and the custodian said, “hey pal, looks like you are having a bad day.”
Yep, bad day.
“If you promise to bring this cart back I’ll let you use it.”, he said.
"Absolutely", I agreed. I then piled the four remaining cases on the cart, and meandered to the car. Then came back to return the cart.
Got back to the car, turned the key, and all I heard was a grunting sound. It seemed like a voice was saying, "if you don’t get this car started in two or three turns you are a done deal".
Part 3 of this riveting tale, next week.
Take care,
John
