On Saturday I'd agreed to pick up Kelly, the nieces and their two cats from the airport. This was a responsibility I felt very keenly, since driving around, picking things up, not getting lost and being on time while I do all those things is not a strong point for me. (I can usually manage 2 or 3, but the whole enchilada is a bit unlikely.) I really needed to be on time since the cats would have been stuffed in the carriers for 8 hours. I know that Kelly and the girls can understand not quite getting the pick up thing together, but cats are low on forgiveness.
I had to be there at 7:00. I decided, since the airport is 30 minutes away...to leave at 6:00, in theory reducing all possibility of being late, no matter what befalls me. I had finished the dreadlocks poncho, so I was feeling like the world was on my side and my odds were good.
(better pictures another day)
5:50 -I am figuring that since I am so well organized, I will end up with some spare time when I am early at the airport. I already have the rainbow peerie socks in my backpack, but I haven't found the chart, so I grab more yarn and needles for socks then remember that I was going to sew up the rest of the Cherry Aran. I go get that, then jam all of the knitting into my backpack. I notice that I still have the bottle of wine from the liquor store in there too...but there's no time to sort. I leave to walk to my mother-in-laws to get her pick-up truck.
6:00 - I arrive at my mother-in-laws, get the truck key and see that she has thoughtfully left me a bottle of wine. (I love my mother-in-law.) I jam the wine in my bag and leave quickly, not wanting to spoil my perfect timing system.
6:10 -I am two blocks from my house when I realize that the street festival has my normal route blocked. (As an aside, I would like to thank the organizers of said street festival for placing the stage run by the Toronto Hip Hop Cultural Centre 17 feet from my door all weekend. The first 3 hours of spoken word, Hip hop and Breakdancing were really, really interesting and entertaining.) Despite having my mind numbed by said street festival and many hours of funky urban music I cleverly devise an alternate route.
6:15 -my alternate route is blocked by an accident. I am stuck in traffic, unable to turn around or move (two blocks from my house) for 25 minutes. It is a tribute to my self control and basically peaceful nature that I did not give in to my urge to chew up the steering wheel while simultaneously blowing the horn to a Hip Hop rhythm.
6: 40 -Finally underway, I make it to the main road and heave a sigh of relief that I am finally making good time. I do not curse or yell obscene things when I discover two km later that the entire road is reduced to one lane by construction.
7:05 -The construction ends and I drive merrily along for mere moments. I cannot speed (not that I would...that would be wrong) because there is a police car behind me. I do some relaxing deep breathing to try and calm myself and forget that Kelly and the kids and the cats landed 5 minutes ago.
7:10 -The police car suddenly flashes it's lights and runs the siren for a second. I, understanding that somewhere in the city, some jerk is breaking the law, pull over so that the police can speed past me to intercept the dastardly criminals.
I am completely shocked when the cop pulls over behind me.
7:12 -The cop saunters up to the car and requests my Drivers license and registration. I am pretty shaken. (I've only been stopped by the police once...while driving at least, and I'm not clear on the protocol.) I ask him what I did wrong. "Spot check" he replies. Spot check? I know I have my drivers licence, but I'm in somebody else's car, so I don't know where the registration is. I check the visor above me, nothing. I flip down the passenger visor, also nothing. I rifle the glove box. Nothing. I realize I have a problem. I decide to get myself more time to deal with the lack of registration by getting my licence. After I fork that over I'll look for the registration. I pull up my backpack and start to undo the zipper.
7: 13 -I remember what is in my backpack.
7:14 -I decide that I have to unzip it anyway, since my wallet is at the very bottom of the backpack.
- I take out the Cherry aran and the ball of yarn that I brought to sew it up with.
-I take out a bottle of wine.
-I take out the yarn and needles for the new socks.
-I take out another bottle of wine.
-I take out the rainbow peerie socks and the two balls of yarn that I'm working from. I pile all of this on the seat beside me.
I finally reach the bottom and extract my licence from my wallet. I turn to hand it to the cop and find him staring incredulously at the enormous pile of wine and yarn on the seat. He has an expression on his face that I can only interpret as
"Holy crap lady...what kind of party are you going to?"
I take advantage of the rather stunned look on his face and confess that I don't have the registration. The cop drags his gaze from the pile of wine and yarn and gives me a new look. This look clearly indicates his belief that I am not just a crazy lady in a pick-up truck full of wine and yarn (Hell of a tail-gate party there) but conveys his new belief that I am a crazy lady in a stolen pick-up truck full of wine and yarn.
7 :18 -I am gettting a little nervous. Have I mentioned that I talk a lot when I am nervous? Talk a lot would actually not begin to describe what I do. I babble. I ramble. I can't stop myself. I hear the stupid things coming out of my mouth but I can't control it. The thought that I am about to start babbling and not be able to stop makes me more nervous.
7:19 - Something snaps. I tell the cop about the accident, and the Hip Hop and the street party. I tell him about the construction, and the yarn and how I knit a lot. I tell him that I was trying to be on time, and I left early you know, because of the cats. Cats hate carriers. I explain that I don't usually carry around a lot of alcohol in my backpack, but I do carry that much yarn and that really, this amount of yarn is normal for me, except if I plan better, but I don't. I detail why I have that much yarn and reiterate that the cats are waiting. I finish by telling him that all that wine in the truck isn't that bad...on account of I don't have a corkscrew.
Then I laugh. I do that crazy laugh/cry laugh. I can't stop looking at the clock and rifling the glove box and I can't stop laugh/crying and trying to explain it all to the cop.
7:21 - He lets me go. Honk if you think that he decided one stolen pick-up with a crazy babbling yarn lady in it wasn't worth it.
7: 34-I arrive at the airport. If you have to get to Pearson by way of Scarlett Road, I have drawn this helpful little map of how to get to Terminal 1. First turn left, then follow this diagram:
Tomorrow: Thrums and why you want them.
Posted by Stephanie at September 13, 2004 12:50 PM