Murphy's Law Made Manifest [Catching up -- Entry that would have been posted 1/21/05]


I wrote this as an e-mail to friends back in January, when my iBlog software was still unusable. Everybody got such a big kick out of it I decided to make it public, now that I can post on the web again! This is about how Murphy's Law was made manifest in my life more times than I want to count in just one day.

1/21/05

I give up. I give in. I am definitely going to get myself a cell phone.

Here I am at home when I was supposed to be at the Rochester Institute of Technology introducing the speaker, media scholar Bob Jensen at an event I worked hard to make happen through the Democracy Now! committee of Metrojustice. I was supposed to introduce him!

Earlier in the day, when I took Jensen in to RIT for an informal meeting with students and faculty, my car started acting up. As I was driving (it was snowing, btw), I noticed that my windshield wipers were operating awfully slowly. When we parked, Jensen suggested I should try starting the car immediately. It wouldn't start. I joined the gathering for a while, then left and called campus security for a jump, then went out to wait for them. It was bitterly cold, and I had a doctor's appointment I needed to get to -- with a rheumatologist (and those appointments are scarce as hen's teeth in Rochester), where I was supposed to get the final results from all the tests I'd had to see if I had Sjogren's Syndrome (I do). I had been waiting for that appointment for over three months.

While I was waiting for campus security to show up, I somehow managed to start my car. I waited and waited for them, but could not wait any longer. I needed to get to my mechanic to see what was wrong with the car. I couldn't risk having it not start again.

Now understand this, my mechanic, Sam Lovetro, is terrific. He will never fix anything that isn't broken, and he won't charge me for finding out that nothing is wrong with my car. A great quality for a mechanic to have. He also knows me by face and name, and even knows what car I drive, since I've been going to him for a long time (and he got lots of money out of my effort to salvage my old Toyota Corolla). Well, I went in and begged him to fix my car in one damned hurry, if it was possible, as I needed to get to my doctor's appointment at 2 p.m. He said he would see what he could do. When I called later, though, he said he couldn't find anything wrong with it. Well, fine. This had happened a few times before, so maybe it was just some fluke.

I did manage to get to my doctor's appointment and get home. And I had time to flesh out my speech for the evening.

I had an Ai Chi class (5:45-6:30 p.m.) that I was going to try to make, then dash off to RIT in time for the program to start at 7. As I say in my blog entry, Ai Chi is nothing short of 45 minutes of heaven. And I sure needed a little bit of heaven.

But with my car acting up (I don’t care if Sam DID say there was nothing wrong with it), I decided not to chance it. I left home at 6 (it takes about 20 minutes to get to RIT, if all goes well) just in case. I figured if I couldn’t get my car started I’d still have time to call someone and get a ride.

Well, the car started. Rats! Yes, RATS!!!!!!

Rats because I start out on the Inner Loop (freeway loop around the city, for you non-Rochester folks) and I’m looking ahead and I can’t tell if my lights are on or not. So I flick them on and off. Still can’t tell. And then, uh oh, the car starts to lose power, and I have to decide in a split second if I am going to get off in, well, a relatively bad part of town. But I couldn’t chance being stuck on the Loop. So I get off on State Street, knowing the High Falls Center is nearby (where I know that likely a few bars would be open, so maybe I could find a pay phone). I get off, pull over on a side street, and figure I’ll try just sitting there a bit and running the engine, all electrical off, to see if I can’t get that battery charged up.

I wait. Every few minutes I try to turn the lights on. And every few minutes it becomes ever more clear that I’m not going to be able to drive the car and have the lights on at the same time.

So, ok, Georgia, let’s find a bar. You’re going to have to call and beg off your responsibilities. No way anyone’s going to be able to come out and get you and get back to RIT in time for the start of the program.

I do find a bar. But it takes a while to find a parking spot. All the while I’m driving with my lights off. Fortunately, it’s well lighted in that area, because they’ve been trying to make it a tourist attraction for years.

I get my car parked, about half a block away from Bru. (Yes, as in brew.) I go in, yes they have two pay phones, in the back. Guess what? They are right next to where the band is playing, singing Jimmy Buffet songs as loudly as you can imagine.

I fumble in my laptop bag looking for my paper notebook where I had written down a couple of cell phone #s of people who were going to be at the event. Can’t find it. Ok, I have my laptop with me. Because of course, my printer had decided to stop working, and I couldn’t print out my notes, but at least I could transfer them from my desktop to the laptop and hey, I’ll make a big joke out of it to get things started so I can blow off my tension. Hey folks. You ever heard of Murphy’s Law? Then I’ll make some comment about the printer, thank the goddess for my laptop, and bow a few times before it, and knock on the wood of the lectern. Laughter, laughter. Ok, let’s roll.

I really can be a bit of a ham sometimes, even in front of a big audience. Back when I was a kid, whodda thunk it? I was so shy I always sat in the back of the room and prayed the teacher wouldn’t call on me.

Anyway, I couldn’t find my paper notebook. At least not at first. But hey, I have a backup! Yes, I had copied my e-mail database this afternoon to the laptop so I’d have all my latest e-mail with me. Smart thinking. I had all the numbers I needed in e-mail correspondence that had been going back and forth about the event.

I try to turn on the computer. I can’t hear that good ol’ Mac chime. I press the button again. Again. Still nothing. Well, the restroom is right there so I figure maybe there’s an outlet and I can plug the ‘puter in, see if it’s just one more electrical problem. (Damn! I know when I checked the battery I still had 87% of a charge left! What the hell is going on here???)

Yes, there’s an outlet. I turn on the ‘puter. And of course, as it’s starting up, I find my paper notebook. Yes, I have several quarters. I go to call Loret Steinberg, a photojournalism professor at RIT who helped make a lot of the arrangements, on HER cell phone. Ring, ring, ring. Ring. Oh gawd, please, please have your cell phone turned on!

Finally she answers, and I try to explain everything over the strains of “Wasting Away in Margaritaville...”

She does get my message, she can do the intro, she knows a lot about Jensen already, and anyway they’ve been hanging out at RIT while I ran off to take care of my car and get to the doc’s office.

Then I have to call a tow truck. No phone book. Ok, I dial 411. Get the automated operator. Of course, the computer can’t understand me over the noise of the band. Finally I get a real person. She can’t hear me. I can’t hear her. I can’t plug my ear, hold the phone, and write down the number at the same time. And anyway, she puts me through to the automated number. I pray that I hear it right. And that I remember it right.

Dial. Ring, ring, ring. Ring....Oh, gawd, please!!!!!!!

Finally an answer. Dispatcher can’t hear me. I can’t hear him. Somehow he does hear that I’m near the corner of State and Pratt streets. He repeats it. I hope I hear him right. I ask him how long it will be. He says he just sent the guy out on another call. It’ll be about 20 minutes.

Well, ok, I’ll wait for a while in the bar. Have a beer. Relax. Listen to the music. The band is actually ok, just too loud!

I’m halfway through the beer and suddenly the thought occurs to me. I can’t drink this whole thing, cuz I know then I’m going to have to pee, and the way my life has been I just know that if I go into the restroom, that will be the exact moment the tow truck comes by.

So I leave the beer, go to my car, figuring it’s close to 20 minutes, but I have no way of knowing because I don’t wear a watch. Well, I COULD turn my computer on again.

Just in case, I try the ignition. I mean, it started up this afternoon when I thought for sure it wouldn ‘t, after it nearly died while I was driving Jensen to RIT for the morning events.

No such luck. However, my clock IS working. Yes, it’s been over 20 minutes. I wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. It’s zero friggin’ degrees outside. I did think to put on an extra layer on top, but didn’t think to wear my long johns. I NEVER wear my long johns in Rochester. It usually doesn’t get this cold! Hey, 20s, even teens I can handle. No prob. But ZERO????

I’m mulling over in my head what the heck I’m going to do. Maybe they didn’t get the location right. But I can’t chance leaving the car and going back to the pay phone in the bar, cuz of course, you know, that will be exactly when the truck comes by.

Well, maybe I’ll write a note & stick it under the wipers. I DO have paper and pen with me. What am I going to say? Please, please, please tow this car to Lovetro’s and I will pay you later. I really, really, really will. I promise! Then I’ll go to the bar and call a cab.

But I have a mere $5 cash with me. Spent $5 of the $10 I had on the beer & tip.

Sit, wait. Upper body’s warm enough. I have good mittens, a muffler, hood on my jacket. Feet are warm enough, thanks to my fur-lined snow boots. Brand new! But my legs, gawd my legs!!!!! Rub them. Think. Do I have anything in my car to cover my legs. Why didn’t I pay attention to the newspaper’s advice on how to be prepared for winter driving, and have a friggin’ blanket in the car? No chance of that. No, I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before, and besides, I usually only drive in the City, and if there’s a problem I can easily get help. Right? There’s going to be someplace warm I can get to.

So I’m sitting there, wigging out. What the hell do I do now? Forty minutes have passed. Forty-five. And damn. I need to pee.

Then I see the tow truck, driving down Pratt Street. And I’m on State. There’s a huge parking lot between us (empty, fortunately). I get out of the car. Jump up and down. Wave like hell. Shout. But he’s not going to hear me, of course. He’s got his windows rolled up so he can be warm and toasty.

I climb over a snow bank, get into that empty parking lot, jump up and down some more, wave like a madwoman.

Finally, he sees me. Genuflect, genuflect. Thank you, goddess. Thank you!

Ok, now my car is back at my mechanic’s, which fortunately is only a few blocks away from my apartment, and the driver takes me home. Last time I had my car towed I had to walk home because the driver had a police call he had to get to.

Driver drops me off. Says “Look at the bright side. At least you’re not going to have to dig your car out of the snow tomorrow. Supposed to be seven, eight more inches of snow.” We already have more than a foot on the ground — a week after it was 65 degrees...warmer that day, even, than California! Yes, thank heaven for small favors.

Home. Gawd it’s cold in here. Turn on the heater. Takes a while for it to kick in. Meanwhile I’m wondering if maybe I’m going to have to have Jensen stay at somebody else’s house, cuz I’ve got no heat. But finally, I can feel it.

Yay!

Sigh. I just know tonight’s program is wonderful. And I’m missing the whole damn thing.

I shouldn’ta done it. I shouldn’ta tempted the gods (goddesses, whatever). I bragged to Jensen in an e-mail that he didn’t have to worry about me being there at the airport to pick him up, ‘cuz my car is reliable, and so am I. Yup. You just don’t dare say anything like that!

There’s a party after the program. At Loret’s. I called & left a message on her home phone. Didn’t want to chance having her phone ring during the program, in case she hadn’t turned it off. Maybe someone will come and get me later, so I can join the party.

What a day. What a goddamned f-d up day.

And yes, in case you are wondering, I still love winter. I just hate cars.

And anyway...just think what a great story this makes! I’ll be telling it to my great grandchildren. Tellin’ them how I had to hike ten miles through twenty feet of snow in the dead of night. In a blizzard,no less!

Bet you are laughing your head off right now!

Laughin’ beats cryin’ any day.

Yep. I’m getting me a cell phone, you can bet your sweet bippy. Soon as I can figure out how I’m going to pay for it!

Posted: Thu - March 24, 2005 at 01:30 PM          

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