A few days ago I left a week of IMT classes in bloomfield, and on my way home, stopped in New Jersey to pick up a bundle of scarves that my friend Ashish had brought back from Nepal for me. Why is this relevant to the Handovermatter blog? Because, as I mentioned in my last post, I thought we could sell the scarves to raise funds for our IMT project. But despite my best efforts (described on Oct. 16) I ended up sending home a pile of scarves with Ashish, who happened to be in Nepal visiting his family, because I was still worried about the weight limit. (I was planning to stop in Zambia and a girl’s gotta have some space in her luggage for beads from Zambia).
So that brings us to this moment. I stopped in NJ on the way home from Connecticut (which is kind of like stopping in Zambia on the way home from Nepal) to retrieve the scarves from Ashish. It was a hectic, rainy, New York drive, but the scarves have made it this far. We are so close and I must perservere.
I finally arrived, parked on the street–could it be that easy?!–and Ashish and I caught up over dinner. The next morning Ashish left for work and I gathered up the scarves, locked up the apartment, checked for my things as the door was swinging closed: DO I HAVE EVERYTHING–YES–WALLET–SCARVES–PHONE–CLUNK–
I go across the street to an auto shop that’s empty, then resort to asking strangers on the corner what I should do if I locked my keys in my apartment. I call a local police station and a nice policeman comes over. I explain that it’s not exactly my apartment but my friend totally won’t mind if we break in so I can get my car keys. The nice officer isn’t able to pick Ashish’s lock with a knife, which is both very disappointing and kind of a relief. Finally I call a lock smith. It has now been 1.5 hours since I first started leaving New Jersey and I’m still standing outside Ashish’s apartment with a bale of scarves.
Bob the Locksmith arrives. He picks Ashish’s lock in approximately 3.6 seconds, which is both fabulous and highly alarming. I point out that Bob is an acutal real-life Superhero, going around all day letting people in to hopelessly locked places–that’s his actual job, to be a Superhero–and in my opinion he should wear a cape and mask. Bob the Superhero only takes cash however, and I have no cash. We go to the corner store so I can find an ATM. The ATM is broken. This is turning in to a very long morning. We return to our respective vehicles so that we can drive around looking for an ATM for me to withdraw cash for the cost of breaking in to Ashish’s apartment.
My car has a $55 parking ticket flopped over innocently on the windshield.
I follow Bob the Locksmith to a corner store and withdraw $60 (I think I got $5 off, he felt bad for me by then, and I did tell him he’s a Superhero, and then again, we’re talking about 3.6 seconds of labor here).
I set off for Center IMT in Fairlawn NJ where I leave the scarves to be transported back to Bloomfield by Therapists visiting for this week’s intensive. The drive home to Maryland is a rainy fog-clouded mess and my GPS decides it’s a good time to be creative with route calculations that normally follow a single trajectory down the entire length of the East Coast.
A few days later I decide, what the heck, and fax a letter to Judge Daglian in a New Jersey Court, explaining why he shouldn’t charge me for the parking ticket. There were these scarves, it was a good cause, it started in Nepal…