SB arrived back from the States and promptly unpacked part of his bags so that he could repack his hockey bag, his priority placed on participation in the Hong Kong Cup. Only four teams compete: Hong Kong, Canada, USA and the World. Switzerland makes up half of the world and is not very neutral in this competition.
My job was simple: leave the office at an hour that would afford the necessary time to be at the rink by 10:10pm to watch my fuzzy American skate around, trip over his feet, clobber a few people, get whacked in the knees by someone's stick and all the other shenanigans that happen when somewhat talented amateurs take to the ice. Unfortunately simple is not a word that appears in my vocabulary.
I arrived at the office an hour early so that I could leave by 6:30, get in a run and then continue to the rink. Instead I was handed an only too typical late afternoon assignment that was due the next morning. In the meantime SB realized that he had forgotten to pack his skates so I had to rush home and grab them, eliminating the possibility that I could take a bus to Megabox. I was attempting to send a message to SB to let him know that I was on my way when my taxi was cut off by a crazy lady in a minivan. The taxi had to brake so hard that the skates launched into the air and my phone flew out of my hands. Boy am I glad that I put blade covers on the skates; they were recently sharpened in Syracuse and have deadly edges. Once I ascertained that the skates had not caused any mortal wounds I turned my attention to finding the phone but it was nowhere to be seen.
As I was removing the floor mats and crawling on the floor the taxi driver took notice and passed me a flashlight to aid my search. I turned over everything in the back of the taxi with no luck. Then he tried to call my number but we could not hear the phone ringing. We tried a few more times until my phone suddenly answered. Then the phone hung up. Then the phone returned his call. At this point we came to two separate conclusions. The driver thought that I was mistaken and had left my phone behind somewhere. Since I had been in the process of texting SB I knew this was not the case and concluded that the phone had somehow slipped in under the seat. This seemed very unlikely because the phone had to have fallen into the small crack where the seat belt is but it was the only explanation I could think of for why the phone was answering and redialling: my movement on the seat above was activating the functions.
Eventually the aggrieved taxi driver pulled over to let me search his car. We pulled all of the mats out and I ran my fingers through some disgustingly grimy crevices. Finally I asked him to remove the seat. "You cannot remove it," he protested. "Yes, you can." I assured him, pointing out two crusty release latches. I could see that he was reluctant and for good reason because the seat would probably be a nightmare to put back but a simple math equation told me that the phone was worth more than he would probably make during his entire shift so I was willing to pay for him to stand by the side of the road all night long while I tore apart and put back together his car. He decided to help me and we removed the back seat to reveal a gruesome scene. Underneath the seat was a collection of tissue, paper, food bits, money and my phone.
I gingerly plucked it from the mess. Then I noticed that some of the coins were of high value. I pointed out the ten dollar coin near my phone and he quickly grabbed it. Feeling grateful for his help in locating my phone, I helped him to grab some of the spare change in the pile. We pulled out about $40 in coins before he reached to replace the seat, probably wanting to get me to my destination before any other disasters occurred. The seat was not as difficult to replace as I had feared and only took three tries to line everything up in the dark.
I gave the taxi driver a $50 tip for being so helpful. When I exited the cab he pulled away to the waiting area on the other side of the street. I strongly suspected that he was going to pick up the back seat and finish scavenging for change. I arrived at SB's tournament covered in black grease stains but since I wasn't carrying food he didn't notice a thing.
My job was simple: leave the office at an hour that would afford the necessary time to be at the rink by 10:10pm to watch my fuzzy American skate around, trip over his feet, clobber a few people, get whacked in the knees by someone's stick and all the other shenanigans that happen when somewhat talented amateurs take to the ice. Unfortunately simple is not a word that appears in my vocabulary.
I arrived at the office an hour early so that I could leave by 6:30, get in a run and then continue to the rink. Instead I was handed an only too typical late afternoon assignment that was due the next morning. In the meantime SB realized that he had forgotten to pack his skates so I had to rush home and grab them, eliminating the possibility that I could take a bus to Megabox. I was attempting to send a message to SB to let him know that I was on my way when my taxi was cut off by a crazy lady in a minivan. The taxi had to brake so hard that the skates launched into the air and my phone flew out of my hands. Boy am I glad that I put blade covers on the skates; they were recently sharpened in Syracuse and have deadly edges. Once I ascertained that the skates had not caused any mortal wounds I turned my attention to finding the phone but it was nowhere to be seen.
As I was removing the floor mats and crawling on the floor the taxi driver took notice and passed me a flashlight to aid my search. I turned over everything in the back of the taxi with no luck. Then he tried to call my number but we could not hear the phone ringing. We tried a few more times until my phone suddenly answered. Then the phone hung up. Then the phone returned his call. At this point we came to two separate conclusions. The driver thought that I was mistaken and had left my phone behind somewhere. Since I had been in the process of texting SB I knew this was not the case and concluded that the phone had somehow slipped in under the seat. This seemed very unlikely because the phone had to have fallen into the small crack where the seat belt is but it was the only explanation I could think of for why the phone was answering and redialling: my movement on the seat above was activating the functions.
Eventually the aggrieved taxi driver pulled over to let me search his car. We pulled all of the mats out and I ran my fingers through some disgustingly grimy crevices. Finally I asked him to remove the seat. "You cannot remove it," he protested. "Yes, you can." I assured him, pointing out two crusty release latches. I could see that he was reluctant and for good reason because the seat would probably be a nightmare to put back but a simple math equation told me that the phone was worth more than he would probably make during his entire shift so I was willing to pay for him to stand by the side of the road all night long while I tore apart and put back together his car. He decided to help me and we removed the back seat to reveal a gruesome scene. Underneath the seat was a collection of tissue, paper, food bits, money and my phone.
I gingerly plucked it from the mess. Then I noticed that some of the coins were of high value. I pointed out the ten dollar coin near my phone and he quickly grabbed it. Feeling grateful for his help in locating my phone, I helped him to grab some of the spare change in the pile. We pulled out about $40 in coins before he reached to replace the seat, probably wanting to get me to my destination before any other disasters occurred. The seat was not as difficult to replace as I had feared and only took three tries to line everything up in the dark.
I gave the taxi driver a $50 tip for being so helpful. When I exited the cab he pulled away to the waiting area on the other side of the street. I strongly suspected that he was going to pick up the back seat and finish scavenging for change. I arrived at SB's tournament covered in black grease stains but since I wasn't carrying food he didn't notice a thing.
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