BFF with Delivery Men

Digressing from Bolivia for a day, I'm reflecting on my series of relationship flings with mail delivery men. It began last December when my old car, Scooter, betrayed me in the middle lane of a busy Boston highway during a blizzard. I had decided to drive into work that morning in the snow, then left at noon to avoid the really bad part of the storm. Bad planning. Since all of the other crazies, like me, had the same brilliant idea, we all got trapped in a white-out on the highway. The snow was hurdling from the sky as though terrorized by the ominous grey cloud covering. Frustrated with the rapid snow accumulation, I, like so many other drivers, hopped out of my car to brush the snow from my windows.

To my utter dismay, when I tried to reenter my vehicle, I discovered that the electrical problems (which I had ignored earlier that day) became a full grown disaster. The car had locked itself. Damn. There I was ... in the middle lane ... of a busy highway... alone ... with nothing more than my coat, one glove and a snow scraper. I peered into my car and gazed longingly at my wallet, purse, cell phone and Blackberry.

What was I to do? Couldn't smash the window with my elbow. Couldn't call AAA. All I could do was look around frantically and settled my gaze upon the FedEx delivery truck behind my car. Mustering up my courage, pride, and composure, I approached the driver and meekly reported that my car had locked itself and could I please borrow his cell phone? He promptly told me that he had been laughing at me but sure, here's the phone.

John, the FedEx driver, told me that he'd be fired if he gave me a lift, but out of the goodness of his dear, blessed heart, he told me to get in anyway, since he couldn't leave me in the middle of the freakin' highway in the middle of a freakin' blizzard. The long version of this story includes a pause at the highway rest stop where I unsuccesfully begged a TV news crew to take me back to Boston, losing my car in the towtruck shuffle, and discovering that someone pushed my car into a snowbank after I abandoned it. But today's key point was that John, the angelic FedEx driver, took me to the Ground Round, gave me $20 for food and drink (alcoholic of course), and returned after his route to check up on me while I waited for my boyfriend to arrive. It was short-lived but memorable one-night stand.

My second fling with a delivery man happened only yesterday. I missed a UPS delivery and called the 800 number to arrange for a pickup. The telephone lady told me that the delivery guy would be taking a break at 4:45 at the monument and I could meet him there. Now, there's nothing at the monument. No cafe, no shops. Hmmm...But, wanting my new iPod case before leaving the country, I warily made my way toward the monument where I found two empty UPS trucks and three UPS drivers hanging out in the third truck. Sure enough, UPS man gave me the package and I signed for it out the back of a truck. Surely this is how illegal transactions are completed?

But I end my musings with a love note. Today, upon returning from my errands, I found yet another yellow and brown UPS missed delivery notice. But instead of the usual scrawled notes of "signature required" or "call for pick-up," my notice said "Same time, same place."

What can Brown do for you? Indeed...