A bout of hysterics
As the blues phrase goes: If it weren't for bad
luck, I'd have no luck at all.
SUNDAY:
We
left Spruce Grove on Sunday at about 2pm for Butt Crack, Montana to return "The
Beast", my nickname for the rental van - it really was an unwieldy piece of
machinery. I didn't wake up until 11am - slept for 10 hours straight, and then
my brother-in-law, Stephen, helped me unload the van - quite a job - that studio
gear is HEAVY! I drove "The Beast", and Wendy followed in her mother's car.
By we reached Calgary (3 1/2 hours from Edmonton), it was dark and Wendy was
really starting to feel dozy. We decided to stay the night in Calgary and get
an early start the following
morning.
Wendy and I had an evening to
ourselves - I don't remember the last time that happened. We decided to go out
to a little Irish pub called "The James Joyce" that reputedly has the best pint
in Calgary. (That's what the banner over the bar said, anyway.) We drank
Grasshopper beer and talked about the move, being in Canada, and what a
ridiculous trip it had
been.
MONDAY:
We
set off at 11 in the morning and made it as far as Humpty's - maybe two miles -
didn't even get to the highway. If you're ever in Canada, incidentally, I
recommend avoiding Humpty's - not good. As it happens, it didn't matter anyway.
Just as the food came, Wendy realised that she'd left our "important documents"
folder in the room. The folder contains our passports, birth certificates,
marriage certificate, customs documents, immigration documents, receipts, and
just about anything else important you could think of. I called the hotel, and
they said they'd send a bellman up to the room to have a look. Wendy was so
panicked, I decided just to head back without waiting to hear from them. I
thought it'd be easier to take my mother-in-law's car - "The Beast" was really
difficult to manoeuver in a confined parking lot - but the car was really hard
to start... it was turning over, just wouldn't catch. Finally, it started, and
I was on my way.
When I got there, I left
the car running (because of the trouble I'd had starting it), ran in, got the
folder that was being held at the front desk, and dashed back to the restaurant.
Wendy practically cried when I walked in with it. (We'd cancelled her cell
phone account when we crossed the border, so I couldn't call to tell her I had
it.) We were already running late (I was supposed to return the van by 4pm), so
we decided just to get going. A sip of cold coffee, and we were off. I fired
up the van and waited for Wendy to back out before I started the multi-step
process of manoeuvering the van out of the parking lot. I waited... and waited.
After a few moments, Wendy got out of the car and walked over to the
van.
"It won't start! Do you think I
flooded it or something?"
I went and gave
it a try, myself. Nothing. We decided to let it sit for a few minutes while I
made some calls. I needed to call D.G. to tell him that we wouldn't be
returning the van at 4. The number wasn't written on the contract or listed
with 411. I got a number for another Rent-a-Wreck in Montana. "Do you have the
number for your office in Cut Bank?" I could hear the frown on the other end of
the phone.
"Cut Bank? Hang on... let me
have a look." A moment later, "Sorry, we don't have an office in Cut Bank."
Weird.
Time to try the car again.
Nothing. Dead... and now the battery light was coming on. I called AAA
(American Automobile Association) and they connected me to the AMA (Alberta
Motor Association). They'd send someone within 90
minutes.
In fact, it was only about a
half an hour during which time, I continued trying to track down the number for
Rent-a-Wreck, still without any luck. The tech they sent quickly came to the
conclusion that it was probably the timing belt. The car was misfiring badly
when it did catch, which was rare. Nothing to do but tow it. A moment later, I
found myself laughing hysterically in the parking lot. I'm sure it looked bad,
but once I'd started, I just couldn't stop. As the blues phrase goes: If it
weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at
all.
Anyway... we rented a car from Hertz
and headed off again. I called my dad to tell him what was going and about the
weirdness with Rent-a-Wreck. I half expected the trailer to be gone when I got
back and was very relieved I'd given them a card with very little space on it.
My dad said that he'd have a look online for the number. A couple of minutes
later, he'd found it. Amazing. I called and let D.G. know I was running late.
He gave me his cell number and told me to call it when I got
close.
When I got to the border, I
decided to stop and ask about the export permit again. A new agent - new
information. Did you know that it takes 72 hours to get the permit? Why is it
that if you talk to three U.S. customs officers, you get three different pieces
of the story but never a clear explanation of what you have to do? I think I'm
clear on it, now, but he gave me a phone number to call just in
case.
We pressed on to Butt Crack,
returned the van and talked with D.G. and Mike for a bit (I really like those
guys), swung by Ed's Speedy Lube on the way out and saw our van sitting outside.
After that, it was straight back to the border. It's amazing how different U.S.
border guards and Canadian border guards are. You always get the feeling from
the U.S. that you've done something wrong and it's just a matter of time 'til
they figure out what it is and ship you off to Guantanamo Bay. On the other
hand, the Canadians mainly joke with you. When the Canadian agent asked how
long we'd been in the U.S., I said "about three hours". He asked why, and I
told him, "we were returning a rental van." He asked, "so you traded it for a
rental car?" gesturing to the rental car we were in. I explained how our van
had broken down in Shelby and then, on the way back to return the rental van, my
mother-in-law's car had broken down in Calgary. He suggested that, in future,
we just borrow cars from people we hate. Probably good advice. He asked if we
had any firearms, alcohol or tobacco, or any bags of cocaine. I denied all of
it ('cause we didn't), although a half a dozen smart-assed responses came to
mind. Perhaps in the future, after I've been in Canada for awhile - maybe if I
have a Canadian passport, I'll relax and "B.S." with the border guards. For
now, I'm too aware that if I said the wrong thing to a U.S. border guard, I
could easily be killed. (At this point, I'd like to remind you of the air
marshal shooting in Miami. "I have a bomb", said in the wrong environment, is
basically like saying, "please kill me
now.")
When we got back to Lethbridge, we
went to Boston Pizza, a Canadian chain of sports bars, where we watched the
Oilers beat Calgary, the Kings beat Vancouver, and the Packers get trounced by
the Ravens on Monday night football. We drank a pitcher of Molson Canadian,
found a room, and crashed out for the
night.
TUESDAY:
We
were up and out of the hotel by about 11 and stopped for lunch in Fort McLeod at
a place called "The Silver Star Cafe and Grill" about an hour later. It turned
out to be a Chinese restaurant with a really misleading name. The food was
great, though. During the drive, I talked to the California DMV again. This
time, the person I had on the phone was a lot more helpful but the answer was
still "no, we don't do that". We can't get the title, and the DMV don't do
"screen prints". I think the best thing to do at this point is to call the
number I got from the U.S. customs agent and see if they can make any
suggestions.
The rest of the trip was
uneventful. Just after Calgary, I got really tired - the first time I've felt
too tired to drive in nine days - so we pulled off and Wendy drove the rest of
the way. We got back to Spruce Grove at about 6, and I went downstairs to our
bedroom at about 7:30 to watch the second half of the New Orleans Bowl. As I
said: uneventful.
The coming days will be
interesting, though. We still have all of our stuff in a bonded warehouse in
Edmonton. The moving company is supposed to meet us there next Tuesday to get
that. Our van is still in Shelby, Montana, and I'll be heading back down to
Calgary tomorrow to drop off the rental car and pick up my mother-in-law's car.
(About 8 hours - just under 400 miles.) As soon as Christmas is over, I need to
get my studio set up and get to work... but keep checking back for pictures,
maybe videos (if I can get that to work), and stories of readjustment and the
freezing cold. I promise I'll try to keep it
interesting!
Thanks for
reading.
-Andrew.
Posted: Mon - December
19, 2005 at 11:53 PM