Life of a traveling sales girl

Traveling for work is pretty interesting.  There have been funny stories, there have been scary moments, there have been interesting characters, and there have been WAY too many scary cab drivers.

For the most part, traveling for work has been uneventful, but every once in a while, we have an ... ADVENTURE. 

For instance, California 2009

Valinda and I were traveling separately from our boss back to the airport after the meeting.  He was driving onto his next commitment - a private consultation for the next day, and Valinda and I were to catch a cab and drive an hour to the airport.  The meeting ran late, and we were tight for time.  Prior to the meeting, we arranged for a cab to pick us up for exactly 30 minutes after the lecture.  When we scurried to the front of the lecture center, there was no cab.  We sat for 20 minutes, calling the cab company, only to be told our guy was in route to pick us up and to be patient.  Finally, the cab driver came.  He apologized profusely as he stashed what appeared to be plastic tubs of his own clothing into the trunk.  Since his trunk was almost full, I wondered if our luggage would make it in.  We stressed to the driver that we would need to get to the airport right away, because we only had 90 minutes before our flight took off, and the drive was going to take 45 minutes. 

The driver assured us we would be fine.  He was late because he had to stop by the pharmacy and get medication for one his regular customers.  By the way, his gas tank was almost empty, and we'd have to stop and fill it up before we could head to the airport.  The driver careened into a gas station and began pumping gas into his tank. Valinda and I kept glancing at our watches and each other.  "I think he lives out of his car." she whispered at me.  Just then a smoky voice called out, "Hey Babe!"  and our driver answered "Sweetheart!"  He embraced what Valinda and I later agreed was likely a prostitute (an older and well-used one) and they chatted warmly with each other, continuing even after the familiar “THUNK” of the pump shutting off from a full tank.

At this point, Valinda and I are furiously whispering if we should try and call for another cab.  The driver cheerfully says farewell to his lady friend and climbs into the car.    He assures us we will make the airport about 15 minutes before our flight - PLENTY of time.  Then he gets onto the highway and pushes the speedometer to 100mph.  The Ford Taurus was shuddering at the punishment, and I started a text conversation with Valinda while the driver is talking about his dislike of airports and airport security. 

[my txt] We are going to die.  He's going 100!

The driver is sharing with Valinda a charming story about how he smuggled a turkey bag of marijuana thru airport security on the way to Hawaii with his now ex-wife.  Really?  This is appropriate to share with your clients? That you are a druggie while you are pushing 110mph in a shuddering Ford Taurus?

[Valinda Txt]  I'm starting to wonder if he smoked something before he picked us up!   I’m texting with Dan [her hubby], so he knows where to find our bodies and who to sue.

We did arrive at the airport in one piece, threw our money at him, and ran to the gate in time to board our plane.  His parting words to us as we barrel into the airport with our luggage?  “Call me next time I’m in Utah!” 

You got it dude. 

We still talk about Turkey bags of marijuana. What is that exactly?  My non-existent drug knowledge leads me to think of the Reynolds oven bags I used to cook a turkey in so the pan would be easier to clean.  However, I suspect that was not what he was referring to.

Chicago, 2011

Another adventure that comes to mind involved my coworker Amy.  The year before, we worked a booth in Atlanta and became friends with Bill.  Bill was working in the booth adjacent to us selling disposable dental handpieces.  "Pastor Bill", as we called him, was hilarious.  He has worked as a dental sales rep for many different dental companies for many decades.  He also worked part time as a pastor in his congregation, ergo, the nickname.  He would share stories of his misadventures with us when the traffic was slow.  When we set up our Chicago booth, we were thrilled to see Pastor Bill residing kitty-corner from our booth.  We would visit back and forth, trading stories. At the end of the day, Bill comes by and announces that Van Halen is playing at the United Center, and would we like to go?  Amy immediately was all over that. So, for $20 each, we enjoyed a Van Halen concert from the nose bleed section.  I only recognized 2 songs, Jump and Running with the Devil, but still had a fun time.  After our shared cab ride to the United Center, Bill and his supervisor were ranting how the cab driver who drove them to the Black Hawks game the night before ripped them off, almost $50 more than we paid that evening.  They asked our driver if we’d be able to catch a cab from the United Center after the concert, and our cab driver assured us it would be no problem. 

Yeah, right.  No problem.

We couldn't catch a cab for anything in that crowd.  We walked up the road from the parking lot in hopes of catching a cab. Pastor Bill sees a cab, and realized it was the cabbie that drove them to the stadium the night before.  Immediately, he starts cat-calling at the guy, interrupting his negotiations with a potential fare.  "Hey, you ripped us off yesterday! We paid $80 when you drove us here yesterday! Our cab fare was only $30 today!  Is your name Gana?  Gana Rip You Off?"  The cab driver's potential fare walked away, and in broken English the driver started yelling at Bill to step away from the cab if he didn't want a ride. 

We finally sought sanctuary at a Dunkin Donuts from the frigid February Chicago winds.  Amy and I ordered hot chocolate and the guys went outside, walking up and down the street trying to wave down a cab, but no cabs were present.  After 30 minutes, I joked with Amy that we should order delivery from the restaurant next door and see if they'd deliver us to the hotel with the pizza.  We laughed, but 10 minutes later with no cabs, and the cab company saying it would be an hour before we could be picked up, we mentioned my brilliant idea to Bill.  Immediately, the guys went to negotiate with the restaurant manager. 20 minutes later, we four all pile into the pizza delivery car.  For just $20, we were delivered back to the Marriott along with a piping hot pizza.  The delivery driver also got a $20 tip.  A bargain for all parties involved. 

I wonder if the pizza guy has fond memories of the 4 crazy people who had themselves delivered along with their pizza.  I know I do.

Seattle, 200?
Not all our auto transportation adventures revolve around cab drivers.  Amy and I were working Gordon's lecture at University of Washington.  When we travel, we set up a table, answer questions, and take orders during the meeting.  We usually have models and DVD players, etc. at the table.  Our luggage is usually under the table, as we have checked out of hotel and will travel home after the lecture.  Because of this, we don't leave the table for lunch if it isn't nearby.  Since we were at the University, and the sponsoring group wasn't offering lunch to the attendees, we grabbed a light snack at the campus bookstore, the closest location we could find to get something to eat.

By the end of the day, we were looking forward to grabbing something to eat at the airport.  One of the dentists in charge of the meeting was responsible to bring Gordon and his ladies back to the airport.  The man was the type that kept one foot on the brake and one foot on the gas.  With all the traffic, our ride to the airport was GO and then rapidly jerking to a STOP.  Over and over.  Already feeling ill from lack of lunch, Amy and I were in the back seat, rapidly turning green.  It was raining outside, but I cracked my window in hopes that the toxic fumes of hundreds of cars (also known as "fresh air") would help me keep my stomach calm.  Amy did the same.  I grabbed some spearmint gum and started chewing it frantically.  I offered Amy some gum too.

From the front seat, Gordon interrupts his conversation with the driver to ask, "Is the window open?"  "Yes, I just was wanting some fresh air" I replied, as I watch Amy calmly pick up the newspaper lying on the leather seat between us.  She held the paper over her mouth and started to heave.  I was amazed.  Amy can barf without making a sound.  That's impressive.  She finishes casting up her accounts and quietly folded the newspaper using some complex origami trick to keep everything contained inside.  When we pull into the airport, Amy casually drapes her sweater over the newspaper, to hide the fact she is taking it to throw away and the man will never finish his crossword puzzle.

Sitting at a Wendy's after going through airport security, I looked at Amy and started laughing. She had a faint shadow of newsprint down the side of her nose. Gordon, clueless, wanted to know what was so funny.

In part two of this post:
Hawaii, 2007?
Earthquake

Atlanta, 2008

Tornado