Nov. 28, 8:30 p.m.
The air is thick with cuss words around here.
It is really effin bloody (effin again) cold. So cold. With wind. The weather network gives me a bright red "extreme windchill" notice for here. Here in eastern Alberta. Yup.
And tonight, our car died. It was plugged in, it was a trooper all day. Until the fuel line froze. Yes, I can list all the things we could have done differently. But right now, it sits on a street corner (the ambulance driver and paramedic helped me push it off the road). We tried the jumper cables thing (a dentist on crutches helped us here). The people could not be warmer here.
And we could not be colder. I misplaced my gloves. My hands hurt like they never have touching that cold metal pushing that car and hooking on those jumper cables. We walked three blocks, they felt like thirty (and by "walk" I mean "run"). The dentist drove us home when we abandoned the car. My hands still hurt.
Yes yes yes, we're the Ontario girls, which is polite Alberta speak for spoiled wimps or something. The people here are so nice - yes, much nicer than we are to strangers in Ontario. I have no complaints about the warmth of rural Albertans.
It's their cold snaps I can't handle. Neither can the car.
Nov. 28, 9:30 p.m.
It gets better.
The cops just showed up. They found the (unlocked) car, and went through it and found a piece of paper with a phone number on it. I quickly wrote down the cell number of a man we met with this morning. He never knew our last names, but he made the connection, and told the cops the name of our local contact. Who told them who we are staying with in town, and then somehow the cops and the dentist had a chat. Yeah. It's a small small town, isn't it.
And the cops came by, and gave us advice on which garage to use, and said that it's probably a good idea to lock the car (who would steal a car on a night like tonight?) and *went to lock it for us*.
Nov. 29, 8:30 a.m.
Called the woman we were supposed to meet at 9:00 a.m. to cancel, because we have no transportation. Call the office to tell them what is going on, and ask Ken to cancel our 10:00 appointment (we don't have the phone number with us).
Try to call CAA. Busy signal. Call car rental agency. They don't open until 9:00.
Nov. 29, 11:30 a.m.
Attempted to call CAA approximately 63 times, but only ever got busy signal. Car rental agency not particularly helpful, as they can do no better than a verbal "have it towed and fixed, and we'll reimburse you, but it it's anything more than towing call us first" (we won't see them again, since they are not open at the time when we need to drop the car off).
Ken calls at 10 a.m. We accept his offer of help. Half an hour later, he shows up at the door in blue coveralls, with a carrier bag full of little bottles of gas line antifreeze. We hope into his car, and he takes us to the sad little neon. When we get there, Eric is already scraping the windshield, with his truck idling in front of it. A neighbouring resident stops by, explaining that he called the cops because he saw two punks running away from a car that is parked the wrong way on a street. Gwen and I admit we are the punks.
Ken and Eric hook up tow rope and pull dead car all the way to Eric's heated garage. Where they go to work, putting the little white bottles to use and hooking up a battery charger. Ken takes us to the office, promising to drive us to our 1:00 appointment so we don't miss any more. It's our last day in the field, after all.
Nov. 29, 6 p.m.
Ken had dropped us off at home and gone back to the garage to try and start the car. No go. He calls us with the bad news. We call the car company, whose advice is "don't do anything except leave it plugged in overnight". Ok then. We call Eric, who promises to try and start it before he leaves town early the next day, and call us to report back.
There are more cuss words as Gwen and I realize our chances of making it to Lethbridge in time to meet with the people we have to coordinate with for Friday's meeting are rapidly diminishing. Ken is going, but not leaving til 8 p.m. or so. More cussing. Angela overhears us, and offers to *drive us to Lethbridge*. Cussing momentarily halted as we are speechless at this offer. Flurry of no no no, you can't do that, you have to work, it's far, etc.
Nov. 30, 8:30 a.m.
Eric reports that the car is truly dead, and he thinks it needs real repairs. Car rental agency says "well, it could be something small". Gwen explains that whether the car does not go because it is something small or because the engine exploded, the end result is the same for us: the car does not go, we have to leave for another meeting, we will not be returning to our small town, and this is not our problem. No suggestions ensue from car rental agency. Gwen consequently informs them of the location of the car, who to call for access, and goodbye.
I ask Angela if we can use her car for an hour, to get our crap out of the dead neon and clean out our office, so that at least if we get a ride from someone else, our stuff is all in one place. She repeats driving offer. We sheepishly accept unless we get earlier ride from the other people we know who are going. We call them, they are wonderful, but not leaving til after 4 p.m. I drive Angela to work, back home to get Gwen, to the office ot pick up garage keys, to the garage to clean out the car, to the gas station to fill up Angela's car and get road trip snacks, back to the office to pack up and say goodbye, and to Angela's work to get her again. She drives us to Lethbridge, stays for a late lunch, and disappears bound for Drumheller.
the end.
--
I'm back in Ontario now. The rest of Alberta was typical of much of what we encountered: indifferent service, when it exists. The chambermaids, for instance, were not inclined to touch our room at the hotel. We reported this to reception, who said "that shouldn't happen" and did nothing to address it. The hotel airport shuttle - which the night manager had convinced us to sign up for when we tried to pre-order a taxi (it takes about 30 minutes to get a taxi in Lethbridge) and which, he assured us, was big enough to take our mountains of luggage, wouldn't take us because of said luggage at 5 a.m. the next morning, according to the hotel receptionist. Our flight was at 5:55 a.m. We were cranky. Fortunately, the morning manager decided that it was, perhaps, worth trying to fit our luggage into the van while we stood outside, pissed off and waiting for a taxi. Of course it fit. "But you'll have to sit in the back, girls", the receptionist now turned driver informed us. Her other passengers were attractive men who stayed there often (for whom she'd made coffee). Yeah.
This was how most service industry transactions went while we were in Alberta. One time, Gwen ordered pizza in a restaurant. The server showed up with the pizza on a platter. She tipped the platter a bit when she got to our table. A sixth of the pizza slid off the platter, bounced off the table (where it splattered all its toppings) and ended on the floor. Oops, she said, sorry, and picked up the crust on the floor and disappeared. We didn't see her again, and when our bill arrived no adjustment was made. The pizza toppings stayed on the table throughout the meal.
And so it went. We faced 15-20 minute waits at gas stations to pay for fuel (pay at the pump was mysteriously not available in many of the places we stopped at). Sometimes, it took over 10 minutes in restaurants to even get a menu. Luggage once took over an hour to show up on the luggage belt at Calgary airport. At the small-town grocery stores, one of the three tills had the light on, but there was no checkout clerk. We unloaded our cart, and waited for three or four minutes. When the teenaged clerk showed up, he went to a different till and proceeded to chitchat with a buddy while he checked him out. He didn't so much as acknowledge us, and after another five minutes we put all our things back into the cart and lined up at the till that wasn't officially open so we could get served.
When you hear of labour shortages in Alberta, it's for real. Who wants to be a waitress, grocery clerk, chambermaid, when there is Fort McMurray and double the salary? Eating out, staying in hotels, calling taxis... all that can be more frustrating than you'd expect when you are in Canada.
But the people in the rural areas (and the Air Canada agent at Lethbridge airport, when we finally made it that morning), they're some of the friendliest and most helpful people you could ever meet. It's the strangest thing - how you can hate the place for surly service (on a good day), and love it for all the people you encounter. The car story in rural Alberta reinforced our growing sense that rural, remote Alberta is a much warmer place than where we come from, even as the mercury plummets to inhumane levels. It's like Alberta has a split personality.
It's good to be home.
Posted by Johanna at December 3, 2006 09:33 AM