I had a purchase to return to Amazon, one of just two simple errands of the day. I had a prepaid UPS label on the box, and there is a UPS drop box in front of Rick’s Family Foods, not far from our home. Simple is as simple lives, or something like that.
Just as I was about to turn left onto 13th St. to enter Rick’s parking lot, I saw a UPS truck off to the right, within chase-down distance. But the drop box at Rick’s was closer, so I nixed the chase. I hoped my parcel would fit in the drop box.
It didn’t, of course, which left me the options of going to the UPS store across the river in Lewiston, at least 15 minutes each way, or happening upon a UPS driver and palming the parcel off on him. It’s a beautiful day, but I had a number of things to accomplish, including a fruit and salsa run to Albertson’s.
Two bridges cross the Snake River between Clarkston, Washington and Lewiston, Idaho: the Interstate Bridge, known locally as the “Blue Bridge,” because it is blue, and the Southway Bridge, dubbed the “New Bridge” by people with no concept of how dumb that moniker will seem 50 years from now, but oh well. The Blue Bridge is a quaint drawbridge no one I know has ever seen raised, with a speed limit of 25 and harrowingly narrow lanes; it takes its traffic to Historic Downtown Lewiston. You can get anywhere else efficiently on the New Bridge at 45 mph. From the UPS drop box I couldn’t use, it made sense to take the New Bridge, because it’s so close to Rick’s, and it would take me to the general area of the UPS store. But I wanted to go to Albertson’s first, on the off chance of intercepting a UPS truck there. Albertson’s is virtually adjacent to the Blue Bridge.
Hope throbbed in my efficiency-craving heart as I headed east on Bridge Street. A Fed-Ex truck went by, then a mail truck, and another mail truck. Surely a UPS truck would be close at hand. But it wouldn’t help to see a truck on Bridge Street, alias U.S. 12; I needed to find a truck parked at a business I could enter and find the driver. But I was in a UPS dearth zone.
I procured our fruit and salsa supply and headed over the Blue Bridge. There was a parking space in front of the Diamond Shop, so I popped in for an update on the repair of my husband’s watch. How happy: it should be back from South Dakota, where it is in the hands of one of the last watchmakers in America, this week. Traffic was minimal, and I was soon on the stretch to the Orchards, where the UPS store is located.
Just before the intersection where I would turn and be two blocks from the UPS store, a UPS driver was leaving a dentist’s office. He was still in the driveway. I honked my horn and banged my hand on my window, and waved like an hysterical woman. I was sure he’d pull out at a screeching speed to elude an hysterical hijacker, but he held up a scanning thing and made a quizzical expression to which I nodded agreeably. He waited while I pulled into the parking lot and stopped behind him. He took my parcel and scanned it. It was on its way to Amazon-Nevada.
I don’t know when I have felt so accomplished.