british men are hard to refuse...
... or at least they are in my corner of the cosmos.
I wrote myself a "Things To Do Before Summer Wanes" list. One of the items on that list is "Paint a lamp" for which I needed certain paint colours I don't have. I happened to discover a Michael's flyer with "40% off one item" coupons in it that morning (it's been a while since we received any Michael's flyers in the mail, it seems...), so this evening (after cleaning the house all day) I went feeling fully justified in popping over to the Tim Horton's across the parking lot (after purchasing the paints) for some well-deserved Timbits and an Ice Capp. When I got out, there was a man sitting dejectedly on the curb in my path to get back to the car. He wasn't there mere minutes before when I had walked over. He was studying a piece of paper and I tried to be nonchalant and walk around him as best I could without looking like I was avoiding him. Maybe it's a guilty city quirk I've picked up, but I try to steer clear of people sitting on curbs. He looked up as I approached and I gave him a half-arsed attempt at making eye contact and smiling unconvincingly. Just walk past. Just slip on by.
"Pardon me, but could you help me find tourist information around here?" Nice British accent, not that shabbily dressed, obviously a tourist. I stop and give him my full attention.
He asks me if this is the only B-------- Road around. I answer, "I think so."
"How far does it go?"
"Oh... up to around K----- Street, I think. Quite a ways." He looks at the piece of paper he's holding which turns out to be a map and I point it out. "What is it you need to find?"
He sounds frustrated with the situation. He's been searching around for a tourist information booth somewhere in this area but can't seem to find it. I tell him I'm not that familiar with tourist information (since I live in the area and am shamefully oblivious to most of the landmarks or useful information tourists would want to know). Seeing how hopeless he looks, I ask if there's anything else I can help him with. He looks at me, blinks with something akin to surprise.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes." (I hate leaving people with problems after I've already gotten involved).
"Well, this is my last day in your fine country..." (Is that a hint of British sarcasm I detect?) "And I'm flying out with Air Canada." I instinctively roll my eyes remembering first year Marketing and a project I did involving the company (way to be loyal to your country's airline, Hannah!) "Well, my nan and grandad purchased my return ticket in advance and I didn't realize your airport had extra fees. Y'see, I was checking in and they told me I had to pay something called the Airport Improvement fee?" I nod my head and do another eyeroll. "Ah, you know of it then?"
"Yep."
"And then there was the Landing(? don't quote me on this one) fee."
"Oh yeah?"
"Well, I don't have any Canadian money left and they wouldn't accept traveler's cheques there so I went to find a bank but seeing as it's Sunday, they're all closed. I tried one of those money mart places but they wouldn't accept the cheques and, because I'm not from Canada or have a _____________ (some sort of identification for travelers that need money fast?) they couldn't give me the money. My nan and grandad gave this ticket to me as a graduation gift (must be graduation from college) and the 'lovely' people at Air Canada won't refund the ticket if I can't make the flight."
Talk about a sticky situation... "So, it's all just because of these silly fees?"
"Yeah, I just need the money."
"How much is it in total?"
"Well, the Airport Improvement fee is $15 and the Landing fee is $20."
The abacus is clicking away in my brain...
He proffers his hand for me to shake. "Hi, I'm Andy, by the way."
I reciprocate the shake and he notes my hand is icy from gripping the Ice Capp. "I'm Hannah."
Click, click, click, click... I've got cash at home... I can part with $35 if need be.
"Well, your tale is pretty convincing..." I begin wanting to add in, "I'd give you the money for your storytelling abilities alone" but he interjects:
"Sad thing is it's all true." There's a twinge of disbelief in his own voice as he thinks back on it.
I clam up. It sounded so well rehearsed, but maybe that's the methodical way one recalls things when they're in such stressful situations. Know the facts, state all the little details, make sure you haven't left stones unturned. If I were him at this point I would be in tears having to resort to asking strangers for help with the looming knowledge that you may very well be stranded halfway around the world with the realization that you had a ticket home but couldn't get back because of some wretched airport fees that are nothing compared to the cost of the plane ticket itself.
"All I want is for this to be over. I want to be back home in my own bed," he sighs weakly.
That's it, Hannah. You can't deprive this man of that luxury -- it's just pay for three hours of work -- no real commitment. It seems only logical. I've dealt with those fees myself and I know they're stupid extortion (I guess it keeps the pretty fountains going... but that's neither here nor there). This man has no one to turn to for help, I would wish anyone to do the same for me in such a situation. Okay, breathe, (can you tell I'm great at this social interaction thing?) go!
"What if I gave you the money?"
His head whips up, "You're not joking?"
"No." I give him an assured, resolute shake of my head. "I don't have the cash on me, but I can go home and get it for you."
"Oh thank you! Just to show that I'm not lying I can give you my laptop as collateral -- I'll call my nan's number and you can speak to her yourself so she can thank you."
"Oh goodness, no, that's alright -- where are you staying?"
"The Holiday Inn."
"Alright, I'll go back to my place, get you the money and meet you back in the lobby of the Holiday Inn, how's that sound?"
"Great!"
"Okay, see you in a bit." I rush off to the car and speed home. J--'s there. I'm mostly sure Andy is telling me the truth but it might help to have J-- present just in case.
He's on the phone, I tell him the situation briefly, he is understandably skeptical but agrees to come along with me (I tore him away from a telephone conversation with his good friend in P.G. and feel a bit guilty but there is no way I'm going without him -- or so says the little voice in my head).
He ends his conversation. I pocket $40 and only my license and we speed back to the Holiday Inn. Andy is pacing the sidewalk in front of the building distractedly as we roll up. He comes to my window and shakes my hand again in thanks and then I briefly introduce him to J-- and he shakes his hand as well.
"I was afraid you wouldn't come back," he says relieved. "I was banking on it as I called for the shuttle to take me to the airport." Money then exchanges hands. "Thank you so much!"
"When does your flight leave?" J-- asks conversationally.
"Ten to 9" he replies.
I look at the clock: 6:45pm. "Phew, you'll be able to make it."
"Well, thanks again for all your help," he says clutching the green bills.
He still seems a bit distracted...
"Best of luck to ya," I say feeling my job is done. "Have a good flight home."
We drive around and get on the street again. A car has pulled up across from the Holiday Inn and a caucasian man in white sweats is crossing towards the entrance -- did he glance at us? Out of the corner of our eyes J-- and I notice Andy hesitate at the door as if he recognizes the man or the man has called to him. A moment goes by, he looks at the $40 and he decides to go inside. The man in white follows behind him at a regular pace.
This causes J-- and I to voice our thoughts:
"Hmmm..." we both grunt aloud. "What was that about?"
I suggest we could turn around and view the proceedings from the parking lot across the street.
"Nah, it's out of our control now," he says.
Yeah, it's not like I'd run up to reclaim the money if I saw it exchange hands with the man in white. I'll rather think that Andy was telling the truth... or else he's a real life Autolycus and is skilled in his "trade" (gotta work on the final act, though, if that's the case). Any which way, I was able to get him back home safely and/or keep his legs from being broken or something. Things like this do have a tendency to keep my life interesting.
I checked the flight schedules when I got home and Andy was only 5 minutes off schedule if he is indeed taking an Air Canada flight to Heathrow. The flight leaves at 8:45pm.
other weekend activities involved shopping, hurting myself (is my other foot jealous or something? this kind of accident has now happened twice!), my sister doing battle with the toilet (or was that the plunger?) and ultimately blistering her hand badly, finishing i capture the castle, fun with hats, cleaning, lazing about and a big, fat etcetera.
I wrote myself a "Things To Do Before Summer Wanes" list. One of the items on that list is "Paint a lamp" for which I needed certain paint colours I don't have. I happened to discover a Michael's flyer with "40% off one item" coupons in it that morning (it's been a while since we received any Michael's flyers in the mail, it seems...), so this evening (after cleaning the house all day) I went feeling fully justified in popping over to the Tim Horton's across the parking lot (after purchasing the paints) for some well-deserved Timbits and an Ice Capp. When I got out, there was a man sitting dejectedly on the curb in my path to get back to the car. He wasn't there mere minutes before when I had walked over. He was studying a piece of paper and I tried to be nonchalant and walk around him as best I could without looking like I was avoiding him. Maybe it's a guilty city quirk I've picked up, but I try to steer clear of people sitting on curbs. He looked up as I approached and I gave him a half-arsed attempt at making eye contact and smiling unconvincingly. Just walk past. Just slip on by.
"Pardon me, but could you help me find tourist information around here?" Nice British accent, not that shabbily dressed, obviously a tourist. I stop and give him my full attention.
He asks me if this is the only B-------- Road around. I answer, "I think so."
"How far does it go?"
"Oh... up to around K----- Street, I think. Quite a ways." He looks at the piece of paper he's holding which turns out to be a map and I point it out. "What is it you need to find?"
He sounds frustrated with the situation. He's been searching around for a tourist information booth somewhere in this area but can't seem to find it. I tell him I'm not that familiar with tourist information (since I live in the area and am shamefully oblivious to most of the landmarks or useful information tourists would want to know). Seeing how hopeless he looks, I ask if there's anything else I can help him with. He looks at me, blinks with something akin to surprise.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes." (I hate leaving people with problems after I've already gotten involved).
"Well, this is my last day in your fine country..." (Is that a hint of British sarcasm I detect?) "And I'm flying out with Air Canada." I instinctively roll my eyes remembering first year Marketing and a project I did involving the company (way to be loyal to your country's airline, Hannah!) "Well, my nan and grandad purchased my return ticket in advance and I didn't realize your airport had extra fees. Y'see, I was checking in and they told me I had to pay something called the Airport Improvement fee?" I nod my head and do another eyeroll. "Ah, you know of it then?"
"Yep."
"And then there was the Landing(? don't quote me on this one) fee."
"Oh yeah?"
"Well, I don't have any Canadian money left and they wouldn't accept traveler's cheques there so I went to find a bank but seeing as it's Sunday, they're all closed. I tried one of those money mart places but they wouldn't accept the cheques and, because I'm not from Canada or have a _____________ (some sort of identification for travelers that need money fast?) they couldn't give me the money. My nan and grandad gave this ticket to me as a graduation gift (must be graduation from college) and the 'lovely' people at Air Canada won't refund the ticket if I can't make the flight."
Talk about a sticky situation... "So, it's all just because of these silly fees?"
"Yeah, I just need the money."
"How much is it in total?"
"Well, the Airport Improvement fee is $15 and the Landing fee is $20."
The abacus is clicking away in my brain...
He proffers his hand for me to shake. "Hi, I'm Andy, by the way."
I reciprocate the shake and he notes my hand is icy from gripping the Ice Capp. "I'm Hannah."
Click, click, click, click... I've got cash at home... I can part with $35 if need be.
"Well, your tale is pretty convincing..." I begin wanting to add in, "I'd give you the money for your storytelling abilities alone" but he interjects:
"Sad thing is it's all true." There's a twinge of disbelief in his own voice as he thinks back on it.
I clam up. It sounded so well rehearsed, but maybe that's the methodical way one recalls things when they're in such stressful situations. Know the facts, state all the little details, make sure you haven't left stones unturned. If I were him at this point I would be in tears having to resort to asking strangers for help with the looming knowledge that you may very well be stranded halfway around the world with the realization that you had a ticket home but couldn't get back because of some wretched airport fees that are nothing compared to the cost of the plane ticket itself.
"All I want is for this to be over. I want to be back home in my own bed," he sighs weakly.
That's it, Hannah. You can't deprive this man of that luxury -- it's just pay for three hours of work -- no real commitment. It seems only logical. I've dealt with those fees myself and I know they're stupid extortion (I guess it keeps the pretty fountains going... but that's neither here nor there). This man has no one to turn to for help, I would wish anyone to do the same for me in such a situation. Okay, breathe, (can you tell I'm great at this social interaction thing?) go!
"What if I gave you the money?"
His head whips up, "You're not joking?"
"No." I give him an assured, resolute shake of my head. "I don't have the cash on me, but I can go home and get it for you."
"Oh thank you! Just to show that I'm not lying I can give you my laptop as collateral -- I'll call my nan's number and you can speak to her yourself so she can thank you."
"Oh goodness, no, that's alright -- where are you staying?"
"The Holiday Inn."
"Alright, I'll go back to my place, get you the money and meet you back in the lobby of the Holiday Inn, how's that sound?"
"Great!"
"Okay, see you in a bit." I rush off to the car and speed home. J--'s there. I'm mostly sure Andy is telling me the truth but it might help to have J-- present just in case.
He's on the phone, I tell him the situation briefly, he is understandably skeptical but agrees to come along with me (I tore him away from a telephone conversation with his good friend in P.G. and feel a bit guilty but there is no way I'm going without him -- or so says the little voice in my head).
He ends his conversation. I pocket $40 and only my license and we speed back to the Holiday Inn. Andy is pacing the sidewalk in front of the building distractedly as we roll up. He comes to my window and shakes my hand again in thanks and then I briefly introduce him to J-- and he shakes his hand as well.
"I was afraid you wouldn't come back," he says relieved. "I was banking on it as I called for the shuttle to take me to the airport." Money then exchanges hands. "Thank you so much!"
"When does your flight leave?" J-- asks conversationally.
"Ten to 9" he replies.
I look at the clock: 6:45pm. "Phew, you'll be able to make it."
"Well, thanks again for all your help," he says clutching the green bills.
He still seems a bit distracted...
"Best of luck to ya," I say feeling my job is done. "Have a good flight home."
We drive around and get on the street again. A car has pulled up across from the Holiday Inn and a caucasian man in white sweats is crossing towards the entrance -- did he glance at us? Out of the corner of our eyes J-- and I notice Andy hesitate at the door as if he recognizes the man or the man has called to him. A moment goes by, he looks at the $40 and he decides to go inside. The man in white follows behind him at a regular pace.
This causes J-- and I to voice our thoughts:
"Hmmm..." we both grunt aloud. "What was that about?"
I suggest we could turn around and view the proceedings from the parking lot across the street.
"Nah, it's out of our control now," he says.
Yeah, it's not like I'd run up to reclaim the money if I saw it exchange hands with the man in white. I'll rather think that Andy was telling the truth... or else he's a real life Autolycus and is skilled in his "trade" (gotta work on the final act, though, if that's the case). Any which way, I was able to get him back home safely and/or keep his legs from being broken or something. Things like this do have a tendency to keep my life interesting.
I checked the flight schedules when I got home and Andy was only 5 minutes off schedule if he is indeed taking an Air Canada flight to Heathrow. The flight leaves at 8:45pm.
other weekend activities involved shopping, hurting myself (is my other foot jealous or something? this kind of accident has now happened twice!), my sister doing battle with the toilet (or was that the plunger?) and ultimately blistering her hand badly, finishing i capture the castle, fun with hats, cleaning, lazing about and a big, fat etcetera.