The Altima Drama

It has been quite an eventful few days since last I wrote.

Jax - obviously vying for Super Boyfriend of the Year - took a float plane on Saturday morning to the Island to be with me for just over 24 hours. I was luckily out of rehearsal on Saturday and got to spend lots of lovely time with lovely him. Sigh. What a guy.

On Sunday it was time to drive him back. Sylvie, Leon, Jax and I all piled into the Altima. The plan was to go to Nanaimo, drop Jax off at the float plane and then continue shopping with my room mates. When we got into the car I realized that I was on Empty, but was assured by my partner that there was plenty of enough gas to get us to Nanaimo. Eager to just get going, I sped away north, hoping that he would be right. And he was. We DID get to Nanimo. It was just the leaving Nanaimo that we never got around to.

Yes, we ran out of gas, but only after we had dropped off Jax at the float plane. Parked in an A&B Sound parking lot, Leon, Sylvie and I were fresh from shoe shopping when the car wouldn't start. OH MY GOD, I groaned, leaning my forehead on the steering wheel, I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO TO THE GAS STATION! My very sporting room mates thought this was all quite funny and accompanied me to the nearest gas station (luckily only a block away) to get some gas to bring back to the car. Thing was, once we had poured the gas into the tank, the car still wouldn't start. LEON WHY ISN"T MY CAR WORKING?? I demanded. I suppose I figured, having a penis, he would have some gender-related intuition about the status of my now-not-working car. He suggested we go get some more gas. So we did. But the car wouldn't start. The best part was, it was Sunday in Nanaimo and nothing was open.

Luckily, Sylvie had her cell phone on her which is blessed with having unlimited everything, so I called BCAA. They promptly informed me that they could not even continue the conversation unless I purchased a membership over the phone. So I did. $150 later they told me they could send a tow truck, but my car wouldn't get looked at until Monday. Helpful. Thank God the tow truck guy was friendly, guffawing loudly as he kept trying to turn my car over. "Doesn't make any sense," he chuckled, "maybe it's the fuel pump? I dunno, but I am sure glad I'm not you." After he was done being charming, he towed my car to a closed garage and I left my key in a hole in a door, wrapped in a paper note. Then tow truck man left and we were, well, stuck in Nanaimo.

What does one do when stuck in Nanaimo on a Sunday? Go to Taco Time, of course.

After eating, we asked our way to the bus depot, stood in line for an hour while the guy behind the glass tried to figure out how to use those new fangled machines they call COMPUTERS and I bought us all bus tickets back to Chemainus. Well, not quite to Chemainus. They were sorry to inform us (although they didn't look very sorry) that the only bus left would take us as far as the freeway up the road from Chemainus. It was Sunday after all. Tired, but still positive, we decided a nice walk would do us good and piled onto a crammed packed bus. Actually, before getting on the bus all three of us shopped for something to relieve the stress. I bought potatoe chips, Sylvie bought some scratch and win lottery tickets and Leon, a porn magazine. With our vices in tact, we set off to erase our miserable day off.

Of course, just as the bus was going to pull out, they asked the three of us to get off the bus. I wondered if porn had become illegal and Leon was going to get arrested, but it turned out that they were going to put us on our own bus with our very own bus driver. Wierd, I know. We thought so, too. Our bus driver was pouting and we were being driven to our new hometown in a 50 seat limo. We even got a chance to rehearse our lines on the way home. I am not sure if that cheered the bus driver up or made him even more miserable. Poor man.

Once off, we walked home and spent the rest of the night comotose. Especially me. The next day when I was told they couldn't figure out what was wrong, I swore a lot. Really loudly. The good news came with my boyfriend's response to the situation which was a mixture of "I am so sorry, this is all my fault" "we'll get through this together" and "I will help you pay for it" all which received HUGE checkmarks from me. The even better news came when, yesterday, I found out that it had been fixed and quite inexpensively.

But all things come in threes, so my story doesn't end there...

Upon picking up my vehicle this morning very early before rehearsal, I unlocked my car to find that it had been broken into while waiting for me to come and pick it up. Oh yeah, I'm serious. Somehow they had broken into the backseat and made their way into the trunk through the centre hole that exists for ski storage and such. Unfortunately, my trunk had been jam packed with half of my life. Fortunately, the half that I had left in there was pretty much all invaluable stuff that drug-ridden robbers wouldn't want. So, they mostly trashed everything - ripping through my last seven years of tax receipts and stealing only Joelle's backpack and my portable CD player and all my CDs. Which is enough, but I suppose considering what I HAVE been storing in my trunk lately, it could have been much worse.

So. There. That is why I haven't blogged in the last few days. Not sure what I am meant to be learning from all this, but I do know that I am going to need to manifest some opposite, abundance energy starting NOW. I declare that this is the end of the car drama and the end to all situations that bleed me of my money. I don't care if I need to light a Native Smudge stick and dance around chanting for the next fourteen days - I am now ready for my peaceful, perfect summer to start.

Though something tells me that this summer is going to be FAR from uneventful.