The Weird Weekend

Hello! How are we?

I hope you have lots of free time on your hands, because I'm about to tell you the story of a strange, stressful and tiring weekend. Make sure you have a hot chocolate and slippers ready. The weekend lasted from Friday to Monday, and will need to be divided into acts.

Act 1: The Job interview

I have applied to about 20 jobs since I've been here. But as yet, only 1 has yielded an interview. This interview was for the 'Greater Phoenix Convention and Visitors Bureau'. Cynthia, who came over from Phoenix for our wedding but has since moved to Virginia, used to work there and asked if they had any admin positions available. Fortunately they were hiring that week, so I called and spoke to Jurelle (not Black, as the name might suggest) and arranged for an interview on Friday at 10am.

I still haven't taken my drivers test (although I passed my theory test before I'd even finished it) because the car must have no cracks on the window screen and an intact muffler (and Rod's car has neither). So it's very 'grey' as to whether I am legally allowed to drive Rod's car or not on my British licence. However, Rod had Uni commitments that morning and public transport is horrid, so I had to drive the old goat into central Phoenix for my interview. I was very clammy. I'd barely driven at that point, and central Phoenix is busy. I made it in 40 minutes, parked up and walked slowly to the new and fancy high rise building in which the 'CVB' was located. I took the lift to the 6th floor and opened up into the shiny 'suite 600'. At reception they gave me a glass of ice water and sent me into a large glass room over-looking the city. I took a few minutes to take in the view, notice the large artworks on the wall and large lush plants, and then realised that in the center was a grandiose Oak table with 6 rolling Oak armchairs. Why did we need such a big room? Surely Jurelle and I could just sit in the foyer? In came Jurelle with a folder, we shook hands. In came another manager with a folder, we shook hands. In came another manager with a folder, we shook hands. Out came a phone that looked like a small space ship, and another manager from Louisiana came to join through conference call. They explained that my job was to be an assistant to all 4 managers, and they had a few questions for me (folders simultaneously flip open and rustle). The interview lasted an hour. AN HOUR. I knew half way into the interview that it wasn't for me, so I didn't take the job (although I'm pleased to say that I was invited back for a second interview). I'm pleased with the experience, they say that being thrown in at the deep end makes learning quicker. Or pants browner.

Act 2: The Marathon

Last weekend was the 1/2 marathon that I've been training for since January. The one that I was waking up early to train for 3 times per week back in England. We needed to leave directly after my interview, so I took off my clammy posh clothes, put on some not so posh ones and made them clammy, and then we set off in the old goat to Springerville. Springerville is in Eastern Arizona and takes about 4 hours to get to from here. Rod's friend Chris Ford was running too, so he came with us, and for the first 2.5 hours we chatted, ate 'trail mix' and remarked on how terrible it would be to live in any of the tiny podunk towns we occasionally drove through in the stark landscape.

About 2.5hrs into the journey, just past 'Globe' (one of the bigger small towns we passed - some of you might remember it as the last town I passed before I had my dramatic car accident 4 years ago) we turned down the music and noticed that the car was making sounds that reminded us of a metal pole stuck in a fan. We were 1/2 hr from Globe behind us, and 1.5hrs from Springerville in front of us, with only 1 town in between. We pulled over into a camp site. No-one was camping, but the camp-site attendant was there in his run-down caravan - dogs barking, wearing a vest. He sold us his motor oil, which we put in, assuming that was the problem, but 5 miles over the next hill the car refused to go in gear. Having lost the ability to control the car Rod decided to give up on a bad job and pulled us over. The car was dead. The scenery was beautiful. Green rolling hills with shrub-ish trees on them as far as the eye could see. However the eye could see no civilisation. No problem, we would call a friend and get some suggestions. All 3 of us had different mobile networks, but of course none of them had any signal. So I, being the feeble looking female, was nominated to flag down the next passing car. A lone guy in a white truck pulled over. He had a mobile with yet a different network he was willing to let us use, but no signal. He was familiar with 'these parts' and said that about a mile over the next hill he got 1 bar of signal. So Rod got into his truck, avoiding the shotguns on the back seat and the bullets rolling around the floor, and he waved goodbye with slight trepidation.

Forty five minutes passed, and there Chris and I sat in the sun. Chris played chess against his laptop, while I preoccupied myself with my need to wee. I stepped into the grass 5 paces and looked around, wondering how many rattle snakes and scorpions might be in the undergrowth ready to nip my cheeks if I dared to go out there and pee, then came back to the car and sat down. A second time I got up, took 10 paces into the grass, heard something moving and scurried back. Eventually my need to wee far outweighed my worries, and I gave in. I crossed the road and found an enclave of trees, stood in a position that made me look like I was on the starting line of a sprint (just in case) and relieved myself. Rod arrived back to the car just in time for me to tell him of my achievement. Over the hill, with 1 bar of signal he'd managed to convey the situation to Sean, who had ordered us a tow truck. The tow truck took another 2 hours to get to us. So we joked about how we had no car and no money to buy a new one. Good times.

The tow truck turned up just as it was getting dark. He was sent on behalf of the AA (or AAA as they call it here), because that's who Sean had called. Luckily Chris had an AA card, but had left it in his car back at our apartment. No problem, the tow guy would take us back and get the card details when we arrived. Oh - except - if Chris only had BASIC AA cover then we could only be towed 30 miles for free, which would mean we'd have to fit the rest of the bill back to Phoenix (about $450). We were towed to Globe where our tow truck guy (who reminded us strikingly of Cliff from 'Cheers') called his boss and discovered that we were covered for the rest of the tow back to Phoenix. So the next 3 hours were spent, Chris in the front seat of Rod's car, Rod next to 'Cliff' with a gear stick between his legs talking about old Woody Allen movies, and me next to Rod, supressing the urge to shout 'Norm'!

So no, we never ran our race. Instead Sean and some of his family came over late into the night and we drowned our sorrows in spicy chicken wings.

Act 3: Trip to Cottonwood

I awoke stressed and worried on Saturday morning, so being my mother's daughter I relieved the stress by cleaning everything. That took until about 4pm. Then, hearing of our quandry, Randy called. Randy's dad owns a car dealership in Cottonwood, a town about 2 hours from here, and he was willing to lend us a car to test drive for a few days to see if we liked it, and then possibly buy it. Nice! Except Candice was coming into town for a flying visit and we were going out to dinner with her and some others that night. No problem - we'd ALL go to dinner and then ALL drive to Cottonwood. So, after dinner, packing, and picking everyone up we set off at 10pm for the long drive to Randy's parents house. We chatted about shoes and handbags on the way up, which Rod loved, and arrived at midnight. Randy's dad said there was no time like the present to get looking at cars (it's a bit of a passion for him), so we drove to the dealership, took out are torches, and traipsed around the lot in the pitch black 'looking' at cars. We picked 2 (because they were both under street lights and we could tell what they were), and on Randy's dad's advice took them to the petrol station so we could see them in the light.

The drive was about 1.5 minutes. But in that time Rod managed to get pulled over by the police. The flashing cop car directed us into the petrol station and we turned off our engine. Randy, evidently having never seen any American cop shows or movies in his life, immediately got out of the car and walked to the cop car. The policewoman shouted 'Stay in your vehicle!' and called for backup. Three more flashing cars arrived in minutes. The conversation then went something like this:

Police (looking through the window): Good evening sir. Do you know why I pulled you over?

Randy (holding up the magnetic dealership license plate he should have stuck on the back): Is it something to do with this?

Police (looking confused): No. I didn't notice that. You were going 49mph in a 45mph zone. Someone up ahead would have caught you anyway, so I thought I'd do it now.

(Apparently not much happens in small town Cottonwood of a Saturday night)

Rod: Oh, sorry.

Police: So what are you folks doing driving around at nearly 2am? Been drinking?

Randy: No, we're, erm, test-driving a car.

Police: Test driving a car are you? At 2am?

Randy: Yes.

Police: From Allreds dealership? Wow, that's quite a service you offer.

Randy: Yeah. I'm his Son. These guys needed a car pretty quickly, so we pulled some strings.

Police: Yeah, I know who you are. We've met before.

Randy: Really?

Police: Yeah.

(Pause)

Randy: Did you pull me over once?

In the time it took us all to contemplate something more inappropriate Randy could have said, she'd cleared Rod's license and the dealership license plates and sent us on our way. Our way, of course, was only 3 metres to the left, where we could get a look at the car. We spent 10 minutes looking at the car, and then drove back to the dealership to bring the other car up and look at that. As we finally left the pertol station 45 minutes later, the 4 cop cars and 4 cops, still congregated and eating donuts, waved goodbye to us. We finally got into bed at 3:30am, and the following morning, after having breakfast with Randy's generous family we headed home in our new Chevrolet Tracker (which is now ours).

So that's how it went. The weirdest weekend I think I've ever had. Questions? Comments? Criticisms?

Now Lewis is here, and that brings a whole new set of problems.

Let me know how your weekend was.