TULSA AND I WORK IT OUT

So, Tulsa, we've had a fair amount of time alone together, you and I. I thought it was time that we had a relationship review. I'll go first.

You know, in many ways, you remind me of Lethbridge, or at least the Lethbridge I remember from my childhood. Not much to look at, but a good heart and a willingness to please. I'm not saying that you're ugly, and I certainly appreciate the steps you're taking to spruce yourself up with a hip, new look. I'm just saying that you're a work in progress and I applaud every step that you're taking. 

You'll have to forgive me if it's taken me some time to get used to your pace. Remember, I just came out of a relationship with New York City and the two of you are very, very different. For example, when I make a purchase in NYC and I say, "Thank you", the normal, expected response is, "NEXT CUSTOMER!". When I make a purchase here and I say, "Thank you", I'm still a little surprised when the response is, "Uh huh, you're welcome, hun. You enjoy the rest of your day now." Truth is, you're never in too much of a hurry to get anywhere or do anything, Tulsa, and while that's not always a bad thing, it does take some getting used to.

It's become clear that you have a love for the arts, and that makes me happy. Your symphony, your ballet, your varied theatre options. This is one of the surprising things about you, Tulsa, in a good way. 

My only major complaint about you, really, is that I find you a bit, well, empty at your core. There is something lacking at your center. This has been a problem with many of the cities I've had relationships with, of course, so perhaps I need to ask myself why I keep coming back to cities like you, but that's another discussion. 

To sum up, I adore your big sky and wide open spaces, your sparkling new arts performance and education facilities, your parks, your sense of history and your honest, down-home friendliness. And, while I'm glad I met you, I don't think we could ever have anything more than a short-term relationship. Maybe that's my problem and not yours, but this isn't really about blame. It's about what's right for both of us. Let's do our best to enjoy each other while we can, knowing that both of us will move on.

And one more thing, I know it's not really your fault, but your oppressive heat can be a little hard to take sometimes. 

THE JUNK IN MY (MISSING) TRUNK

Tulsa, OK....the saga continues...

Since our Company Manager is still unwell, our new Assistant Company Manager, Emily, agrees to take me to (finally) pick up my trunk. This involves two stops:1) US Customs & Border Protection to have it cleared, 2) Forward Air, the actually transport company.

So this morning, before rehearsal, off we go to the CBP office near the airport. I hand in my paperwork, explain the situation and then, we wait. At one point, an officer sticks his head through the door and asks, and I quote, "What's in this shit?". I explain that it's personal belongings and give him a copy of the packing list. He disappears. We wait. Eventually, he hands the paperwork back and says that the trunk is cleared and we can go pick it up from Forward Air.

We arrive at the Forward Air warehouse, hand over the paperwork to the lady who says, "Oh yes, is this the Hazmat?". I explain that it's personal belongings. She points to a skid of blue cylinders wrapped in shrink-wrap and says, "That's what this I.D. number matches. Looks like they sent us the wrong cargo." We begin to understand why the CBP officer may have been slightly confused.

Thankfully, Emily is with me and she begins to take charge since she has more background information than I. Phone calls are made, phone calls come in, messages are sent and received. We are eventually told that no one knows where the trunk is but that all of their facilities have video monitoring so they will now have to go through the recording archive to find the trunk and see where it went. No one know just how long this will take, so we leave.

I am remarkably calm through this entire episode. Surprisingly calm, though suddenly feeling the need for a big fuckin' drink. 

And so, we wait.

The original request still stands...if you happen to see 6 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of boots, 1 box of resume photos, 1 box of desk supplies, 1 ceramic mug, 1 coffee pot, 1 electric kettle, 1 clothes iron, 3 boxes of contact lenses, 1 ceramic kitchen knife, 2 outdoor jackets, 2 dinner jackets, 1 raincoat, 1 yoga mat, 4 scarves, 2 sweaters, 12 t-shirts, 2 pairs of shorts, 3 pairs of pants and a collapsible laundry hamper...they're mine. 

Oh, and, for the record, I will lose my shit if this doesn't get sorted soon.

THE JUNK IN MY TRUNK

N.B.* I delayed publishing this post because it didn't seem right to indulge in a petty rant when so many of my friends in Calgary were fighting to save their homes from the massive flooding. While the fight is still going on, the peak of the crisis has past and a little humour isn't a bad thing.
xxx

As I am about to start travelling again ( a lot!) with the national tour of The Lion King, it seemed like a good time to re-boot the blog with this tale of trying to get my personal belongings shipped to America.

The Lion King Gazelle Tour is what is known as a 'trunk tour'. This means that I am allowed to have a trunk full of things that won't (or can't) go into suitcases. The trunk gets picked up at my accommodation in each city, and delivered to my accommodation in the next city. Sounds like a great thing since one can pack things like boots, rain-coats, small kitchen appliances etc. However, getting it picked up in Canada and shipped across an international border was not a simple as it should have been.

First, the trunk....

The company recommends the Contico Pro Tuff Bin. They try to keep the trunks similar to make for ease of moving and packing on the trucks. So, off to Lowe's I go and am quickly the owner of a brand new trunk.

And so, for days, I took on the task of deciding what I might want to have on the road with me, and packing it into my shiny, new trunk.

Then the emails started...

I have yet to meet the company manager in person, but we have been exchanging a dozen emails a day for over a week. It's like a first date.

The condensed version of the story is that shipping personal belongs across the border is a lot more complicated now than when the company manager last did it, two years ago. Forms need to be completed, passports and drivers licenses copied, letters of 'intent' written. All of this dragged on through the week, even though the trunk was supposed to be picked up on Tuesday. When at last I had printed and filled out the forms, copied my personal documents and written the letter of intent, I went to the local convenience store to fax it all to the company manager. Why the convenience store? It's the country, and it was after 6:00 p.m., and one's options are limited. 

The fax...

ME: I need to send a fax.

DEAD-BEHIND-THE-EYES GIRL: K

(pause)

ME: Do you have a cover sheet?

DBTEG: A what? Uh...I don't think so. I just scan it in and it goes.

(pause)

ME: So....do you want me to write down the fax number or......?

DBTEG: K

(She tries to send it three times. No success)

DBTEG: Jathink it's a long distance number?

ME: Um....yes. It's a 212 area code. It's long distance.

DBTEG: So I should put a 1 in front of it?

ME: (grinding my teeth to dust) Uh-huh. Ya. You should. You should do that.

By the time the fax is finally sent, it is Thursday night. I am flying out on Monday. More emailing. I am assured that someone will be in touch to arrange a pick-up time for Friday.

The phone calls....

I pace the house most of the day on Friday, drinking. Shortly after noon, I receive a call from someone who asks if I have a parcel ready for pick-up. I explain that it is a trunk, not a parcel, and YES it is, indeed ready for pick-up. 

Do I know the dimensions?

I read them from the sticker still attached to the trunk.

Do I know the weight?

Heavier than a suitcase but lighter than me.

He says he will find someone who can do the job and call me back.

Hours pass...

The phone rings again, this time a woman from Toronto wonders if my parcel is ready for pick-up. Again, I explain that it is not a parcel, but a trunk and YEEEESSS it is ready for pick up.

Do I know the dimensions?

My head and eyes begin to spin in opposite directions as the conversation starts all over again.

Hours pass...

No one has called to arrange a pick-up time, as promised, but a man arrives in a big truck....looking for a parcel that's to be picked up. AGAIN, I explain that it is a trunk. A big, motha-fuckin-trunk, and NO I don't know how much it weighs!!

He calmly backs up the truck, loads the trunk, with my help, accepts my documents and drives off. No shipping label, no signature....nothing. 

So, somewhere, out there in the world, right now, are some things that belong to me. Lots of things. So, if you should happen to spot 6 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of boots, 1 box of resume photos, 1 box of desk supplies, 1 ceramic mug, 1 coffee pot, 1 electric kettle, 1 clothes iron, 3 boxes of contact lenses, 1 ceramic kitchen knife, 2 outdoor jackets, 2 dinner jackets, 1 raincoat, 1 yoga mat, 4 scarves, 2 sweaters, 12 t-shirts, 2 pairs of shorts, 3 pairs of pants and a collapsible laundry hamper.....they're mine. Please forward them to Tulsa, Oklahoma as soon as possible.

*Update...My trunk has actually arrived in Tulsa but is imprisoned in Customs. I cannot pick it up without the Company Manager because he had it sent to him in case it got here before I did. We are working to find a time when we can go pick it up together. Sigh.