A Typical Evening in Penney Land

Ryan has been haunting CraigsList for a new iPod to replace the one that didn't survive the washer & dryer. After a couple of days of almost-deals, finally he and a potential seller made an arrangement last Monday evening. Could we come to meet him over in Pearland in an hour? Sure! Oh, meet at the Shell station; he'll be the big black guy in the red Hollister shirt. Hmmm, okay. That's a public place, right? Ryan will protect me! And besides, we'll be able to drop Allen's tax return in at the nearby post office on the way home because they're open until midnight. No postage? No problem; here's Anna's little folder of stamps.

So we jumped in the car and headed that way. Uh-oh; when we were almost there, the BBG in the RHS texted us to say something had come up, and could we re-schedule? Well, I guess. Is anything fishy about this? Will he still be wearing the RHS? Back we go, toward the post office and home.

Then Dave called with a news flash: Guess what? That whole idea of post offices helpfully staying open until midnight on Tax Day is gone with the economic wind. Most close at the usual time, and almost all close by 7 (it was now about 8). There is only ONE in all of the Houston area open until 10, EVERY day as it turns out, and it is in Humble. Well, I had a full gas tank, the good company of an interesting 15-year-old, and a task that needed to be completed, so why not? Up 288 we went and found the one lone open PO.

Found it crammed with people, that is. CRAMMED. We walked in and were told that THIS line is for people buying stamps from the vending machine and THAT line is for customers waiting to be served at the desk. Seriously, I thought? That long a line for a vending machine to purchase postage? Whatever! I asked where you'd go if you just want to mail a return? Oh, back out to the parking lot to that big mail cart! Got it. So Ryan and I went out to chat with the post office guy and the police officer. We shook our heads at the long line, and the police officer said, "All they need is one stamp each." WAIT- they just need stamps? **I** have stamps! I laughed and said I should go re-sell the ones from Anna's stamp folder for a profit. The police officer said, "You have stamps? You really SHOULD sell them for whatever you can get. You'd be doing them all a favor. People do that all the time." So back to the car I went, snagged Anna's stamps, and headed inside.

"Who wants to buy a stamp?" I called to the folks in line. One man with two little boys emptied his pockets and came up with 41 cents; I gave him a stamp. The next lady asked how much I wanted for a stamp. I asked how much it was worth to her to not have to stand in line. She brightened, traded me a dollar for one stamp, and left. Then a few others jumped in; I sold them all (except the first) for a dollar each. Great markup! Several people said they couldn't buy because they left their change in the car, and it was then that I realized they were planning to use their CREDIT (or debit) CARD to buy single stamps from the vending machine. SERIOUSLY? How much is THAT going to cost? Made me not feel bad at all about asking a "handling charge" for my stamps.

So with a pocket fill of one-dollar bills, I told the police officer about my scalping. He patted me on the shoulder and said, "Good job!" I laughed all the way to the car.

The car... About Lakewood, its check engine light came on. About 610 it started making a suspicious hum. About Hillcroft I decided it was time to pull over into a nearby parking lot. Ryan noticed the steam from the hood and thought it was smoke. "GET OUT OF THE CAR!!" he demanded, taking good care of me. Hmmmmm, I thought. Time to call home and get reinforcements. Dave spotted our location on the map and sent the kids to rescue us.

So what do you do if you are 15, and you're stranded, and you're bored, and your name is Ryan? You see how far you can push the car around in neutral in this vacant parking lot. Sometimes he'd run back and forth between pushing and steering, and sometimes I'd steer while he provided the manpower. One of those times I was jumping into the steering position, and for reasons I don't remember, was barefoot. Shut the car door. Hard. Broke my left pinky toe. Ouch.

About that time I realized how badly I needed to go to the bathroom. What around us was open? Well, there was a bar ... WAIT - over there is Liberty High School (in a storefront? whatever, as long as their plumbing works)! I could use some Liberty! So Ryan stayed with the car and I limped across the parking lot. The kind security guard let me in; the less-than-kind lady told me that she was not authorized to allow the public to use their restrooms. Oh, no! My car is overheating, my toe is broken, it's late at night, and I really need to "go." PLEASE????? Nope, sorry. So I left. (Later on I wondered what would have happened if I'd offered her some of my newly-acquired ones stuffing my pocket?!?!?)

Well, I hobbled back to the car, AAJ arrived with gallons of water, we re-filled the radiator and made it home without further adventures. iPod guy / post office across town / scalped stamps / stranded car / broken pinky toe / engaging conversation was plenty for one evening, I'd say. :-)