Friday, November 27, 2009

Scenes from Boston

I need to go to the post office to send something as registered mail to my former tenants - who put a huge hole in the hardwood floor, did a sloppy job painting everything in garish colors, ruined a custom-sized window screen, left the place a mess, etc. – yet who want to know why they’re not getting their whole security deposit back. Hmm, I wonder. That’s what happens when you rent to irresponsible 23-year-olds who work for the Springer show; they have a warped sense of entitlement and complete lack of responsibility. Anyway, as we head out on Wednesday, my friend Jenn pulls up to the curb by the post office so that I can go in and she’ll wait for me. I find this puzzling.

Me: So you'll just circle around the block endlessly until I come out looking all frazzled and flag you down, right?
Jenn: Umm, no, I thought I’d just wait here.
Me: But won’t the rabid metermaids or cops come by to give you a ticket?
Jenn: Uhh, no, it’s not like we’ll be here that long.
Me: What do you mean? My trips to the post office generally take at least an hour, and that’s if……oh, never mind. I’ll just go on in. You have something to read, right? Becau….okay, never mind.

As Jenn is giving me increasingly strange looks for some reason, I decide I might as well head on in, get this over with. But lo, what’s this? Instead of the customary line of 20-30 people and one sullen postal worker ever-so-slowly stamping things in between sips of tea, we have 2 jovial women and…no line. At all.

Woman 1: Hi! What can we do for you?
Me: Excuse me a moment.

I go back to the door and step out, to see if it says “Bedford Falls” on the front. Nope. Hmm, odd.

Me: Okay, I need to send this registered mail somehow.
Woman 1: Here ya go, fill out this form, here’s a pen. Ya know, doncha hate stupid people? We were just talking about how we hate stupid people. And most people are idiots.

I’m in love. Woman 2 apparently has laryngitis and can’t really speak, but she manages to croak out a weak “Yep, hate stupid people.”

I’m formulating plans in my head to move to Lowell, MA, just so that I can hang out at this post office with these two really cool women, when 2 more people come in.

Woman 1: Hey, look who’s here! Good to see you guys – happy Thanksgiving!

The joviality has just been turned up a notch, as a lawyer and his dad come in and start exchanging holiday greetings with the women. As we’re chit-chatting, looking at pictures, having some flaming rum punch, etc., I suddenly remember that I’ve left Jenn sitting in the car. Oops. She’s probably out there arguing with a tow-truck driver by now.

After waving goodbye to my new BFFs at the post office, I head out and….what’s this? Jenn is still sitting there in the same spot. Hmm. I guess it truly IS a season of miracles…..


D said...

Sounds like another Festivus miracle to me.

t-odd said...

Don't worry,"Potterville" awaits your return to Illinois where all will be right and surly with the world.