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May 11, 2007
Day of the Van
One very hot day in July of 2004, friend Christian helped me move from my small apartment on Calvert Street in Baltimore to Robbi's and my new house on Falls Road. Robbi, of course, was fishing in Alaska at the time, enjoying the 45 degree breeze blowing lustily across the tundra. It was about 98 degrees in Baltimore, and as we moved my heavy, bulky things, Christian maintained a positive attitude. Since that day I have been longing for an opportunity to pay him back.
Recently, having passed the Maryland bar and somehow convincing Emily to marry him, Christian (with full approval from his recent betrothed) decided to purchase this house (on Calvert Street in Baltimore, of all places).
The day's ultimate challenge was to get Christian's new box spring from Mr. Mattress in Glen Burnie (a town south of Baltimore) to the second floor of the new house on Calvert Street. But like so many worthy challenges, there was an abundance of preceding drama. Which I shall share with you below.
The day began in Chestertown with an empty van, which we drove to Baltimore.
Once in Baltimore, we added one friend to the empty van. The friend, David, is the same great man who once cooked Primitive Beef with us under a galvanized trashcan lid.
David was passing through Baltimore on his journey home to NYC from a visit to DC. I'm guessing that, had he fully understood the shenanigans that would unfold throughout the day ahead, he would have taken the direct train home.
To the van we added Christian, all dressed up from work.
Next we headed back to Christian's newly-emptied rental to pick up a great deal of things needing to be dumped .
We paused briefly to document the thrill of friendship.
Then we filled the van with the dumpables.
After filling the van, we paused briefly to document the thrill of friendship intensified by low-grade manual labor.
Our next stop was the dump, where we dumped.
Robbi noticed that those who had dumped before us seemed to have disregarded the thoughtfully-placed signage.
This sort of thing gets her all bent out of shape.
Leaving Robbi to wallow in her own ire, Christian, David, and I paused briefly to document the thrill of friendship in the presence of that acrid garbage smell.
Having dumped, the van was once again on the empty side. It was time to fetch the box spring. And so we drove to Mr. Mattress.
Where we were lucky enough to meet Mr. Mattress himself. Mr. Mattress, Christian, and I paused briefly to document the thrill of camaraderie, proving that people and mattresses can get along, in spite of what the cynics think.
All the things you've heard about his generous spirit and winning sense of humor are true.
There were a tense couple of minutes when it looked like the box spring was not going to fit into the van.
But under the careful watch of the Serta Sheep, we managed to make it work.
It was Iggy who broke first, declaring that enough was enough.
But we managed to convince her to stay with us by describing how much fun we were all having.
"Fun?" she said, "I hadn't realized."
"Oh yes," we said, "This is loads of fun." We managed to keep a collective straight face and she bought it.
Fun.
Since the van wasn't really full enough yet, we decided to go pick up Christian's charming dog, Ruby. She had just been "bathed and brushed", so when you think of the increased fun of adding Ruby to the mix, remember that she is wet and shedding like a bandit.
After fetching Ruby, we saw a billboard, which caused David, Christian, and I to take pause, search our souls, and say, "Oh boy, I really hope not."
I also found myself wondering what, exactly, Rodin would say about this particular placement of The Thinker.
Eventually we arrived at the new house on Calvert Street.
Plan A, which involved taking the queen-sized box spring up the central staircase, was quickly declared a bust. We were all straining, sweating, and swearing so intensely that we did not even have the heart to photograph our efforts. It was Christian who had the brilliant idea to take the box spring out back and hoist it up to the second story balcony.
Plan B was shocking, audacious. Would it work?
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes, it did.
The box spring delivered to its final resting place, we rewarded ourselves with burritos from Chipotle. Once all of the hauling, dumping, lifting, and sweating was done, Emily decided it was safe to come home. Unfortunately, we were out of room in the camera's memory card, so we cannot picture her delight at having a box spring. But just so that you can remember, here is Emily, moments after Christian asked her to marry him.
Oh, they will have a happy, happy home.
Posted by bogenamp at May 11, 2007 08:37 AM