Winfield...at last. Sort of.
- Michael Jay Tucker's explosive-cargo
- 28 minutes ago
- 4 min read
So last time, I had gotten us through a rain and hail storm that could have eaten Cleveland (okay, storms don’t eat. But you get the point. I mean, work with me here) and we were finally ...finally!...on the city limits of Winfield, KS.
Whew.
Martha was driving. I happened to check the time. It was...it was...YIKES! Just after three in the morning.
When we were on the bus, we’d thought we’d be in town by five o’clock that afternoon. We weren’t. When we were driving from Dallas, we thought we’d be there by ten. We weren’t that either. We were arriving ...ouch!...at three in the freaking morning.
Ah well. At least we were here. A moment later, Martha turned into Judy’s driveway. I got Judy out of the car and escorted her up the stairs. What was *supposed* to happen next was that her door was *supposed* to be open. Unlocked. She’d left the key with her next door neighbors. They were going to feed her cats for the week she was gone. Then, in theory, they were going to leave the door of her apartment unlocked the night she was to return. You see, Judy only had one key to her apartment. And she’d left that with them. Meaning she couldn’t open the door herself. Unless it was already unlocked. Got all that?
(Foreshadowing: before we left again for Texas a week later, I took her house key and made seven...repeat, *seven*...copies of it.)
Anyway, we came to the door. Judy tried to open it...and...and...
It was locked. Somehow, by some malevolent chance, the neighbors hadn’t left it opened the way they were supposed to. It was as tight as Leavenworth in a lockdown.
About the photos: I don’t have any photos of us in Winfield cursing a blue streak at 3 am. So, instead, here are some pictures I took around the town. First, a rather dramatic bunch of mushrooms near Judy’s apartment. I’m told this is coprinus comatus, commonly known as “lawyer's wig.” Second, Martha looking amused at the Winfield City Lake Recreation Area. Third, some colorful wax begonias growing next to a bit of ancient, rusting iron fence.
At that moment, Judy began to lose it...and I can’t blame her. She’d been through *so* much that day. All she wanted was to be in her own home, and her own bed, at the end of it all. She just wasn’t up for yet another screw-up.
I went through some options. We could get her a room at the hotel we were staying at. Or...or...or...
Or...oh, to h*ll with it! This was NOT happening.
I stomped across the way to the neighbor’s house. It was three in the morning, and I knew they were sound asleep... and I’m sure they hate me to this day...but, dang it, I’d had it...had it up to THERE. And beyond.
I started ringing their doorbell. I started knocking. And knocking some more. And more. And more ringing the bell. Heck. If I’d had a cannon, I’d been a one-man 1812 Overture.
As it was, my ringing and knocking and occasional swearing did NOT wake up the residents. However, they had dogs. A bunch of dogs. Small, nervous, yappy dogs. And them...I woke up. They came down out the kitchen in a furious flood of small, sharp, needle-like teeth and high-pitched, shrill, LOUD barking. If they’d been able to get through the door, I woulda been toast. They would have been at me like piranhas on a water buffalo. There’d have been nothing left but my shoelaces and the odd kneecap.
But they couldn’t. However, they *did* manage to rouse their owners. An (understandably) grumpy looking woman appeared at the door. I identified myself. I said that Judy needed her key. “Oh,” she said. “That’s right,” she added. She went and got it, and a few minutes later, we had Judy up the stairs and in her apartment. Thank God.
Martha and I looked at each other. “Okay,” we said, in unison. Then it was off to the hotel for us...where, of course, we slept like the dead. Or logs. Or something else proverbial like that.
And that was the end of our incredible day. I suppose I could end this series there. But...
There is still one, last, twisted punch line yet to come.
So, stay tuned.
***
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