After our wonderful success at the toy train show in York, Pa a few months ago we invited a few of the collectors to the shore house to look at some other things we had.
(Please read: Toy Train Show – 2017 – York, PA) It’s a six part epic tale.
All we brought to the show was the antique trains. The really old stuff. Mostly standard gauge and pre-war O’ gauge pieces. Out of the thirty-three sets of trains at the show only thirteen sets came home with us. So we had a pretty good haul over those three days in York.
But the best part of all were the wonderful people we met while there. We had built some solid relationships with some folks that really loved toy trains, had deep pockets, and wanted to see what else we had at the house that they could view.
They were interested in some of the pieces discussed but not seen. They knew what they were and wanted them. They were also interested in buying a few of the custom wooden cabinets that my father used to display the best of his collection around the house.
These guys had spent serious money on our stuff at the show and were hungry for more. They were a pair of brothers from Maryland. One was a contractor and the other worked surprisingly for the Securities Exchange Commission, which is a big job.
I work at the salon Friday night. I go home and pack. I’ve already reserved a car at Enterprise.
Saturday morning I get up and head over to the car rental. They told me it was better to come at 10am instead of at 9am when they open because it’s less busy.
Bullshit. They have three people working and there are ten people ahead of me. I’m just going to stop there for a moment. I reserved this car last Tuesday. There should be one person handling just those clients. The clients that took the time to plan and prepare for their trip. All they have to do when they come back is show the drier’s license and the credit card and they go get your car.
But noooo… they’re taking each swinging dick that stumbles through the fucking door, that’s never even rented a car and have no idea what they’re doing. Why reserve then? It fucking sucks. It’s hot, and I’m scrunched into a corner in a chair by the door, holding my bag on my lap like some fucking shoobie!
Then this lady comes in with her shitty little dog and starts right in with, “Are they short-handed?”
I really don’t want anything to do with this moron/asshole. I’ve been suffering with stomach disorders for the last two days, and I just can’t deal with her right now.
“All I know is I’m dead last in this room, and you’re after me.”
“I have an appointment.”
In my darkening state all I can think is: No One Cares!
She starts flapping about how she’s a member and made a reservation, etc. I really don’t fucking care. The three employees that are here are working very hard (I didn’t say efficiently) and they are all apologetic and acting professional. So I’m just going to eat it and smile. I didn’t have to get up early on a Saturday and put a tie on and have to be nice to anybody. I just need to get where I’m going.
So bitchface says to me, “I know you. We’ve met.” I just shake my head, if she were on the right side of thirty and not such a hag I could muster a false memory. But she goes on, “Yea at some networking thing through, Keila’s women’s collective.”
Now I really hate her. (See Keila – 2012 to 2017 – Fleas and Ticks) I cut her off a long time ago. The woman goes and sits down in an empty chair across the room. Just another loser parasite. Her shitty little dog is yipping at some of the people, especially these middle eastern guys that are trying to be nice. Fucking racist little shitty dog.
I finally get to my turn. I’ve been rotting here for a half hour. The girl who is waiting on me is very nice. My transaction takes almost no time because I registered the car like adults are supposed to a week ago.
She give me a Nissan Versa that’s a compact. It’s nimble and clean.
Finally on the road! Acrosss the Ben Franklin Bridge, down Route 42 and then finally to the Atlantic City Expressway. There’s loads of traffic but I’m just happy to be on my way. I still have to get to the Garden State Parkway. Then it’s another forty miles to North Wildwood. I get to the line of traffic all trying to get to exit 7 South for the Parkway. It is backed up two deep for miles. It’s literally bumper to bumper, stop and go just to get to the exit.
Once on the Parkway it’s not much better, but at least we’re moving. The traffic finally begins to clear as I get south of the Ocean City exits.
I finally get to North Wildwood. Without traffic, th trip should normally take and hour and forty-five minutes. I started today at 10am today, and it’s 2pm when I pull into the driveway of the house.
Four hours!
I get out of the car and am greeted with open arms by my lovely sister Janice. Her son and his girlfriend are there too and it’s great to see everybody. I’m a bit wired and burnt at the same time. The collectors aren’t here yet. That’s gives me a little time to decompress, drink some water and loosen up. I have to get into sales guy character to move some more of these trains.
So we’ll see what happens. I hope theses guy brought plenty of cash.
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