On tuesday morning I woke up at 6am, quite early considering my average of 8:30am. The reason: a work trip to Montreal. Sweet, two days of very light work and the chance to spend some time with ol' Karim (ok, ok, he's younger than me, but he looks older)
Soon I am cruising down the highway, rock 'n' roll playing on the stereo and a cute blonde chick dozing next to me. Things are definitely looking up.
The first hint of a less than perfect day came about 40km from Montreal: crazy morning traffic forces everyone down to 40km/h. Alright, I'll be a bit late, no big deal.
45 minutes later, we're driving down Rene Levesque about 2 minutes from our destination. The phone rings - my boss just want to make sure I'm fine. I am but I can't find a parking spot to save my life. So we turn around for 10 good minutes. Isn't there room for just one more car in this town?! Finally, I find an underground parking lot that's not full. $15 a day?!? That's twice what I would pay in Ottawa! I don't care, I'm late, and that's going on the expenses bill anyway. This place is like a labyrinth, but I eventually find my way to a free spot; it's tight, I need to realign. Shklonk! What do you mean, 'Shklonk!' ? Transmission's gone. Sweet. I'm half-parked (well, three quarters really), I'm late, and by this stage I'm already a little pissed off. Now the freaking car breaks down. Fuck.
Alright, call the boss, let him know you're going to be even more late, then find the parking manager - last thing I want now is a ticket because I'm badly parked. Once everything is settled, I set Natalie free and make my way to my client's offices. People back home are asking around for a recommended mechanic.
I arrive at my client's - an office full of women, should brighten up my day. They're very nice and understanding - maybe because they need my help - and I set down to work. This should take me no more than 10 minutes. I whip out my cd, stick it in the drive and ... nothing. Take it out, dust it off, try the second drive ... nothing. Cool, the damn thing doesn't work on any computer here. Good thing Nico put some backup on ftp. Didn't put everything though, so 10 minutes turn into an hour. No big deal, everything is working. All I have to do is stay on call for the rest of the day, in case things turn sour.
With that, I can now turn my attentions to my car. I have a couple of names now. There's only one problem though: the car needs to be towed, but it's in an underground parking. Takes me over an hour to find someone to tow it out. The guy shows up, asks me what's wrong. "The transmission is dead" I tell him. He squirms: if that's true, it'll cost me the best part of $2,500 to replace it. Lovely. I spent $550 just last month on that car, might as well make it a nice, round 3 grands. Not to mention $600 in April.
Thankfully, the guy knows his stuff, and it turns out it's only the transmision cable, a much less expensive outlook. Good. We tow the car out, and set out on our merry way. Turns out I don't need to go to the transmission specialist that was recommended to me - it's 30 km away - so the guy drops me at a nearby garage. The car should be fixed by tomorrow morning.
Finally I can relax a little, and look forward to spending the evening with Natalie, Karim, Leila and Nadim. The night is indeed fine, we get ourselves a nice little Mexican meal and have a good laugh.
Morning comes, and like yesterday it seems promising: not even a half-day's work, France-Italie in the afternoon, and my car returning - by then I have accepted the fatality of having to pay for repairs. 5pm and I'm doing good (beating the Italians 3-1 lifted my spirits). A little game of 'Settlers' and we're 'out-the-door'. Get to the garage... WHAT THE FUCK?!? The car's been broken into! Company laptop gone, money gone, wallet gone (there was only souvenirs in it though)... No forced entry. I'm pissed. Next to me Karim is ready to gut people, and Natalie's intentions are only remotely softer. I don't know what the hell to do; sure, the mechanic is the primary suspect, but I don't know for certain. Besides the woman behind the counter - the only one left in the garage along with 2 apprentices - probably has nothing to do with it, I can't decently smack her head open on the counter. So I call the cops, tell them what happened. I need to go to the nearest station for that, they don't come out themselves. Alright. I pay my bill, step in the car and go. Or not. What the hell is going on??? The gearstick goes from one gear to next freely. Is that what they call fixing my car?!? I storm back in; "Your car is fixed, I tried it myself". Well you tried it like a monkey cause it sure isn't working right!
I'll cut it short here - about an hour later my car is finally ready. I go to the cops and report the incident. Not much they can do, I know, but a meagre source of consolation. Luckily my boss is completely cool, no worries about the laptop, in fact he was apologising for sending me to Montreal!!
It's late now and I'm aggravated. Karim is nice as ever and offers me to stay over again, even though he has a pile of work to do. I feel bad in a way because I don't want to distract him, but I take up the offer.
The evening was nice actually, the Salibas and Natalie all doing their best to cheer me up. We ended up watching Hot Shots, which was just what the doctor had ordered. A decent night's sleep and a few 'eggo's in the morning saw us back home. Just in time for Lasagna.
It looks like this week will end up better than it started...
