Crazy Dream | 03/05/08
This morning I took a three mile walk through Glover Park and upon returning home I fell asleep. I had the CRAZIEST DREAM while I was sleeping...
...It all started back in Tallahassee and it was Friday. Christine and I were at Olive Garden when U-Haul called to confirm my truck reservation. Although they had the right day, I certainly was not going to pick it up the next day at 10pm when my reservation was at 9am. Fortunately, after a brief, curt phone call it was all squared away and I was going to be able to get it at 10am on Saturday. Awesome. Here's how wacky the dream was--I still had a lot to do Friday night despite getting ready to leave town Sunday morning instead of being totally ready to leave. Crazy, I know.
On Saturday morning I called Ricky to see if he could take me to the U-Haul place at noon. He and AJ came promptly to pick me up at 11:30 and I called U-Haul to get their street address. They gave it to me and we headed out. Above five minutes into the trip the same woman who I had just spoken to calls back. (Ok, here's where the dream really starts to get weird.) She says something like "Yeah, we just got off the phone but I don't have a truck for you after all". Long story short, the previous customer still had it and she'd have to call me back when it was available. "Damn", I said (or something to that effect). Ricky and I ran errands while I called my team of able-bodied movers to tell them I would call them when I had the truck. Hours go by. More hours go by. Suddenly it's 7pm when I get a call from U-Haul HQ saying they have a truck for me but instead of the 14' I had requested they had instead procured me a 26'--a great service to me! Ricky and I immediately took off for the U-Haul place. We sat there for about a half hour before I call them back saying there is no one there. The conversation goes something like this:
U-Haul: "Oh, it's not at that location--it's the one on the other side of town. I thought I had made that clear".
Me: "No, not only did you not make it clear, you didn't say that at all. I'm reasonably certain that omitting that piece of information does not simply qualify as being unclear."
Her: "How could I have not told you the location?"
Me: "That's what I would like to know".
Finally Ricky and I get to the right place and they bring me out what is effectively a semi with a huge prehistoric turtle on the back of it. On the bright side, they started me off with 1/8 tank of gas so I was able to drive about four blocks to get gas before stalling out on the side of the road. Once back at my house Ricky guided me in the 26', no-radio, broken-window truck into the upramp into my apartment and after about 45 minutes I had it in there only leaving two small canyons on Lake Ella Drive from where the 26', no-radio, broken-window truck had bottomed out. Naturally, if you're going to make a truck that big, you want it only three feet of the ground. Duh.
One of my co-workers came by to help me pack the truck and between him, Ricky, and me we were able to get all of the big stuff packed. Ricky tetrised everything into the front of the truck and by 9:45 we were done enough that I could go pick up Steve from the airport. Steve was in good spirits until we got back to my apartment and saw the state of affairs. There was absolutely no way in hell we were leaving at 8am the next morning.
Despite our best efforts in cleaning and "packing" we were not able to leave until 4pm on Sunday. On our way out of town we brought back 95% of Ricky's Dyson (I have that piece if you're reading it by the way) and stopped by Jamie's mom's house to move some furniture around. We only had to stop for gas twice between Tallahassee and Jacksonville which, as I would learn later, would be amazing gas mileage. Jacksonville was under heavy construction so we sat around in our cars doing a whole lot of nothing. The first major problem with the truck happened here, on a narrow bridge. The main brakes failed and moved to the auxiliary brake which, in case you've never driven a 26' truck before, causes an alarm to sound. This alarm is high-pitched and cannot be stopped. For the next hour we drove in narrow construction lanes, surrounded by semis and concrete barricades and, in the truck, I got to hear the docet tone of imminent death. Although I had wanted to drive to Savannah, and Steve was certainly up for the task, I had such a pounding headache that we ended up spending the night in Darien, Georgia. It had taken seven hours to do what should have taken three. Awesome.
Steve and I woke up early the next morning, stopped spooning the dogs (he had Chompy, I had Abby), and hit the road. Although we had to stop for gas every hour (that's right, a four-figure gas bill) things weren't going too badly until we got to the Beltway at around 9:30pm. Apparently you're not supposed to drive 40 in the middle lane and since Steve was following my 40-mph-going-ass he was catching all the heat from other cars about it. Several angry phone calls later we had half-apologized and gotten off the expressway into Washington. I misunderstood the directions from Jamie, got lost, and had to double-back to get to Jamie's house. Finally we did arrive and Jamie had graciously prepared some Japanese Chicken for us. We made a quick jaunt to my new apartment to see it and then went back to Jamie's. Exhausted, we all went to bed soon after.
On Tuesday morning I blew a tire out on the no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake truck while driving to my new apartment in morning DC rush hour. Believe me, it was every bit as fun as it sounds. Steve was behind me and said he saw a piece of black shoot off the tire along with a 2' burst of what we can only assume was air. This came about because the streets were too narrow to accommodate any sort of bad driving and coupled with me in a large truck that can't slow down quickly and some other car stopped at a light well past their line and halfway into the intersection I either had to drive up on the non-populated curb or slam head-first into this car. As if a non-working radio, a drivers-side window that didn't roll up, auxiliary brakes (with requisite alarm) wasn't enough having a flat tire and severely bent rim certainly was. Steve and I unpacked the truck relatively quickly but found my apartment was too small to adequately unpack with everything inside. We spent the day trying to make room for ourselves and eventually met up with Jamie for dinner at some place in Cleveland Park. After dropping her off Steve and I decided we need to get plowed and since I had only the two diet Dr. Peppers and the single Budweiser my landlord had left I elected to go on a beer run. Stupid. First, it was absolutely pouring. Second, I have no concept of street directions and I got lost. I'm talking lost-lost. In the 90 minutes I was gone I was in DC, Virginia and Maryland and with no phone battery (nor charger) I thought I might die. It was storming so hard I couldn't ready any street signs so it wouldn't really have mattered anyway. Despite my best efforts apparently you can't buy beer in DC anywhere so after all that I came home empty-handed. Steve was already half-asleep on the couch in the dining room so I crawled over boxes into the living to sleep on the dog's couch.
Yesterday morning Steve and I managed to get a lot done--we cleared a number of walking paths and just generally got boxes into the right rooms. Because my lease says I have to have 80% of the floors covered in carpet we didn't set anything up since we were going to IKEA with Jamie in the evening. When it came to pick Jamie up for the IKEA trip I got lost (again) getting to her house so it took a good 40 minutes to go the 7/8 of a mile which put all of us in a bad mood. I was already really stressed out driving the no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim truck on the narrow streets but somehow we navigated ourselves to the IKEA in College Park, MD. Once there I spent a ton of money on their crap, filling up a shopping cart with three of those furniture-hauler-things. After paying Steve suggested I go bring the truck to us; a good plan considering the volume of stuff we had. So I go to the no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim truck to bring it back and...oh, it won't start. The battery is dead (no I didn't leave the lights on). I attempt starting it about four hundred more times while screaming. I call U-Haul and the woman on the phone, while very polite, says, "The earliest we can get someone out to you is 9:30am tomorrow--is this acceptable?" It was right here that I think I formally began to have a nervous breakdown. I totally lost it on her to the point where I was channeling expletives in Arameic. Ultimately she agreed to send someone out immediately. After waiting around for another 90 minutes IKEA informed us they were closing. No one had called from the mechanic yet so I figured I'd give the truck another try. Viola! It started right up and Steve and Jamie loaded it while I tried to tell the retards at U-Haul they could cancel the mechanic. We dropped off Jamie's stuff (and her) at her place and Steve and I came back to my house to unload the truck. It was now 11:00pm and Chompy was freaking out. I called Jamie back and asked if she Ab could come over and watch Chompy while Steve and I unloaded the no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim, dead-battery truck from the tow-away zone. She agreed and we went to pick her up. I got lost (again). We all finally got back here but now it was too late for Steve and I to team-carry the heavy things up the stairs without waking up all of my neighbors so I suggested we leave those things on the side of the house. It probably was not a smart decision and Steve and I had it out for like the 10th time. A full 10/10 in stress at least the truck was unloaded and the plan was for me to bring it back to Jamie's house with them following in the Taurus, drop them off, then take the Taurus home. I somehow managed to get back to Jamie's house in the truck without getting lost (shocking, I know) but then Steve called saying the Taurus would not shift out of park. Awesome. After a lengthy conversation it was decided I would come back and bring them. I go to do that and...that's right, I get lost. Not only do I get lost, I get REAL lost. I call Jamie for directions and totally lose it when she's unable to use the GPS she had installed in me to figure out where I am. After screaming at her and throwing my phone I pull over, have a quick mental breakdown, and then realize I am but one street off from where I'm supposed to be. I make it back, bring Jamie and Ab home and we call a cab. It's about 2am at this point. Out of the dozens of cab companies the first to pick up was Yellow Cab (after getting recordings from the first six) and when they press me for address I flip out on them. I try to explain that I have only been in town for a day but the guy on the phone keeps saying, "WHERE ARE YOU TRYING TO GO???". His assholeness causes me to tell him to go f* himself and hang up, possibly ending my only chance to get a cab back. Thankfully another company has a person working this late who is not an asshole to me, and they come pick me up and bring me home. For $8 I should just use a taxi all the time. I got home around 3am, frustrated, embarrassed, exhausted, and frankly on the verge of tears. It was finally time for bed.
This morning Steve and I got up at 8am and brought all of the stuff in that we had left outside. Only about 20% of the packages caused us to yell at each other and once we were done it was time to bring the no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim truck back to U-Haul. Unfortunately the no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim truck was also out of gas so our first stop was going to be a gas station. Unfortunately trying to get a gasless, no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim truck into a tiny city-gas station was impossible so I drove on fumes until Maryland when I finally found one on the right side of the road. It was much too small for a gasless, no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim 26' truck but I crammed it in there anyway. My first take brought the the gas tank to about 4" from the outstretched nozzle and in my second attempt I accidentally wedged the truck in between the filling station and a small brick building that was luckily vacated at the time. I put $50 in to get 1/1000 of a tank and rocked the truck back and forth to get it unstuck. Finally I just gave up and went over a 2' embankment with an enormous thud as I landed back on the main road safely. When we finally arrived at the U-Haul place the stoned-out-of-his-gourd attendant apparently did notice the scratched-up, no-radio, broken-window, auxiliary-brake, flat-tire, demolished-rim truck as having any new damage. I don't know how he didn't notice that a tire was flat and partially shredded nor that the rim was bent 4" OR that the other side had enormous scrapes by the tires where I unjammed the truck from the gas station. As soon as he checked the "No new damage" box I ran out of there like Chompy in a thunderstorm. The next problem was that Steve's flight was in a about an hour and we had no idea where we were. The iPhone provided basic directions and, once free of the cursed truck, we hauled ass towards Reagan and Steve made his flight. I came home to a house filled with dozens of unpacked boxes, unbuilt furniture and but a two-cushioned sofa in my dining room to sit/sleep on...
And that's when I woke up. Pretty weird dream eh?