Hell is a place on earth
Okay. So I was in Canada on Saturday, and Jenna Goin and I were walking around downtown Victoria for about four hours. At one point we ended up in a Korean restaurant, and when I went to pay...no wallet! We back tracked everywhere, but we knew there wasn't a chance in hell that we would find it. At this time, there is one hour left before the ferry leaves. Guess what's in my wallet? My I.D., as well as our ferry tickets. We got in line at the port, bought more tickets ($10 a pop), and waited in fear. When we arrived at customs, I didn't know what the hell to do. Jenna showed her I.D. and birth certificate, and the customs guy kinda looked at me expectantly. "She just lost her wallet," Jenna explained.
"Shannon Phillips?" he said. WTF???!! "We just found your wallet down town. Wait here and I'll call the cops and tell them to bring it over."
I could not be-fucking-lieve my luck. Jenna and I walked over to the benches and waited. And waited. Everyone was on the ferry, and the walk-on ramp had already been pulled up. Ten minutes after the ferry was supposed to leave, the police unit arrived. They handed me the wallet in a shrink wrapped baggie, like it was contaminated 'evidence' of some sort.
"Some guy found this in a bad part of town," she said. I didn't recall going into a bad part of town; the worst I saw were a few drunks at the bus stop. Of course, I realised, Canadians probably have a very different conception of the 'bad part' of town when compared to someone who lives in downtown Portland. She handed me the wallet, (with nothing missing from the inside!) and Jenna and I were finally able to leave. But no! It didn't stop there. The only part that was open on the ferry was the loading ramp, and Jenna and I were escorted by two police and a customs officer down the fucking Ramp of Shame. Everyone on the outside of the ferry was watching us board, glaring down at us for making them wait. It was excruciating!
When we finally got back into the US, the ticket booth was closed, so we had to wait to see if we could refund our duplicate tickets. I got home to Portland yesterday, and they're still in my damn wallet! It's pretty hard to get a refund for something that was purchased three hundred miles away.
Today was even worse. I got downtown at 11 AM with the bunnies in the back seat. I got out to feed the parking meter, and what do I do? Lock my fucking keys in the mother fucking car. I called everyone under the sun to avoid having to pay a locksmith, but NO one answered. I finally called Pop a Lock as a last resort, and they told me they'd be there. IN TWO HOURS. Todays high? 43 degrees. Wind? 30 MPH. That gives us a lovely chill factor of 33 degrees. I stood outside for as long as I could stand it, and then I caved in and bought some Subway. I was gone for maybe twenty minutes, and what should I see under my wind sheild wipers when I get back? A fucking parking citation for $16. (Jessy Davis, I thought of you!) Finally, after three hours of waiting, the good people of Pop A Lock showed up and were so kind as to charge me $42. O happy day. I was just six blocks from my apartment. Then, just to put the shitty icing on the cake, I took the wrong street and ended up heading for Seattle on an unknown highway and didn't reach my apartment for twenty minutes. I will never drive again.
"Shannon Phillips?" he said. WTF???!! "We just found your wallet down town. Wait here and I'll call the cops and tell them to bring it over."
I could not be-fucking-lieve my luck. Jenna and I walked over to the benches and waited. And waited. Everyone was on the ferry, and the walk-on ramp had already been pulled up. Ten minutes after the ferry was supposed to leave, the police unit arrived. They handed me the wallet in a shrink wrapped baggie, like it was contaminated 'evidence' of some sort.
"Some guy found this in a bad part of town," she said. I didn't recall going into a bad part of town; the worst I saw were a few drunks at the bus stop. Of course, I realised, Canadians probably have a very different conception of the 'bad part' of town when compared to someone who lives in downtown Portland. She handed me the wallet, (with nothing missing from the inside!) and Jenna and I were finally able to leave. But no! It didn't stop there. The only part that was open on the ferry was the loading ramp, and Jenna and I were escorted by two police and a customs officer down the fucking Ramp of Shame. Everyone on the outside of the ferry was watching us board, glaring down at us for making them wait. It was excruciating!
When we finally got back into the US, the ticket booth was closed, so we had to wait to see if we could refund our duplicate tickets. I got home to Portland yesterday, and they're still in my damn wallet! It's pretty hard to get a refund for something that was purchased three hundred miles away.
Today was even worse. I got downtown at 11 AM with the bunnies in the back seat. I got out to feed the parking meter, and what do I do? Lock my fucking keys in the mother fucking car. I called everyone under the sun to avoid having to pay a locksmith, but NO one answered. I finally called Pop a Lock as a last resort, and they told me they'd be there. IN TWO HOURS. Todays high? 43 degrees. Wind? 30 MPH. That gives us a lovely chill factor of 33 degrees. I stood outside for as long as I could stand it, and then I caved in and bought some Subway. I was gone for maybe twenty minutes, and what should I see under my wind sheild wipers when I get back? A fucking parking citation for $16. (Jessy Davis, I thought of you!) Finally, after three hours of waiting, the good people of Pop A Lock showed up and were so kind as to charge me $42. O happy day. I was just six blocks from my apartment. Then, just to put the shitty icing on the cake, I took the wrong street and ended up heading for Seattle on an unknown highway and didn't reach my apartment for twenty minutes. I will never drive again.