A couple of years ago I was invited, along with two of my colleagues to give a presentation at Naramata, a small town in British Columbia’s Okanagan region. Rhonda and Shauna are two of my favorite people in the world. Together we had worked on projects that educated parents and kids on high risk behaviors. We were also very good friends.
Putting together a presentation presented a bit of a challenge because both women had relocated, Rhonda to Castlegar and Shauna to Victoria. Travelling to Naramata also presented a challenge to me because it broke my rule about travelling no more than four hours away from home in any direction. My co-workers Rose and Sue also gave me grave warnings about the standards of accommodation at Naramata.
Rhonda psshawed all of these excuses, luring me with the promise of great couple of days with her and Shauna. The power of the internet helped us overcome the challenges of putting together a presentation from our separate places in the province.
Missing my friends (and boosted by Rhonda’s promise that we would stay in the good part of the hotel), I decided to live outside the box a little.
So on a sunny morning in October I headed out. The presentation was loaded on to my laptop and my husband had checked the tires. I brushed him off when he asked about a map. I really suck at maps. Rhonda had told me to go from Creston to Castlegar to Penticton. I was just going to follow those big green road signs. Rhonda and I were going to have dinner that evening in Naramata.
The drive was really lovely, and the day warm and sunny. After Creston, the road began to wind more but I was listening to James Taylor, and the colors of the leaves changing took my breath away. It seemed a little strange that there were no big green signs with “this way to Castlegar” on them but I was optimistic.
Right up until I came to a dead end.
Each way I turned there was a driveway…but no real road. Then a man came strolling along. My heart leaped with joy at my luck. I rolled down the window.”Excuse me, but do you know which way I go to get to Castlegar?”
Now, I have worked for a long time with people who use drugs and as soon as this guy opened his mouth I knew he was high as a kite.
“Castlegar” he repeated. “I might have heard of that.” He smiled a vacant kind of smile that gave me a wee bit of hope because crossing paths with someone with that good of a buzz had to mean I was near to — if not actually in — the West Kootenays.
I was left with no choice. I had to pick up the cell phone and call Rhonda.
Now I love Rhonda but she can be a bit bossy at times. The choices, however, were to call my husband and possibly get the “oh, weren’t you the I-don’t-really-need-a-map-woman I spoke with earlier” lecture …or being bossed a bit by Rhonda.
In the name of marital harmony I chose being bossed. I tried to keep things casual and calm. “Hey Rhonda, where are you?” “I’m here in Naramata, Donna, are you getting close?” “Well, here’s the thing, Rhonda. I’ve had a bit of a kafuffle with the road. I’m not sure where I actually am..I’m in that place near the green house where the road just ends.”
There was silence.
“Oh, look. there’s a sign. I’m in Crawford Bay.”
More silence, but it was the kind where someone is trying to hold stuff in, words like idiot, stupid, or moron.
And then she spoke. “How in the hell did you end up in Crawford Bay?”
I could have said I drove here but I think that might have escalated her. So I asked cheerily “Is Shauna there?” to which she responded no, and asked when Shauna was coming.
“I thought you talked to Shauna,” I said.
“I thought you did,” she said.
After a moment she recapped our situation. “So I’m here in Naramata without the presentation because it’s with you in Crawford Bay and we don’t know where Shauna is?”
“Yes that right.”
“Do you have Shauna’s number?”
“No we communicate only by email.”
Another significant silence.
Then came the bossy tone I mentioned previously. “Donna, find the ferry and get on it.”
I didn’t think it was a good time to ask if ferries required parallel parking because I can’t parallel park.
I found the ferry terminal and got in line. Fortunately, there was no parallel parking. The ferry ride was really beautiful. It was so relaxing moving across the lake. I loved it so much I called my husband to tell him how great it was. He wanted to know how the hell I ended up on the ferry.
I missed having dinner with Rhonda, but she did wait up for me. It was apparent also that the good part of the hotel was not really that great. We were totally relieved when Shauna arrived the next morning in a rented Lincoln town car, laughing that it was kind of a pimpmobile. Our presentation went off without a hitch, just as though we had been practicing it together for weeks.
When people asked how our trip was and I said it was great, that I had taken the ferry, they looked at me a little weird. I guess it really was the long way around. We laughed and talked and shared a lot in the time we were there. It filled up the place in me that misses them. All in all, it was totally worth a little boat ride.
I laughed all the way through, Donna. Great story!