Yesterday was a large, long day that required myself, my bike, and a trailer to fetch and deliver the last load of big lumber to the boat shop, and then lots of food. It was a rather busy week here with other things, so all of this needed to be done in one day. The equipment was up to the task, but I was not sure about ME being up to the task. My route was somewhat triangular in nature, first from my house to Menard's, about five miles, then up and over to the boat shop, another four-ish miles or so. After that, to the food store, and then home, all told, somewhere around fifteen miles for the day.
Below is a picture of the load from Menard's. I had five milk crates strapped under the wood filled with glue, hardware, and a LOT of ice water. On top of the crates were four sheets of plywood, two sheets of Styrofoam, and a sheet of plexiglass. On top of that is a bundle of 2x2's as well. Not especially heavy, perhaps 175 pounds, but rather wide and long.
I arrived at about noon at the lumberyard, a pleasant place to be, wandered around the store for a good hour or so gathering up what I needed. After you pay for your stuff, you have to drive around the store to the back, where the large goods are stored. They have a security guard kiosk as you go in, the guard writes down your entry and points you to where you need to go.
I must digress for a moment here. When you haul stuff around on a trailer, especially large things, loading that stuff is somewhat critical. There is no such thing as too many bungee cords or ratchet straps. You want the load to be over the wheels as much as possible, otherwise it feels like you are towing a piano playing gorilla around behind you. I had modified this trailer I brought to haul plywood sheets, but I had not tried it out yet, so I was curious to see how the whole arrangement worked.
After a good hour or so of loading, positioning and strapping everything down, I pedaled over to the security kiosk to check out. The guard checked off my supplies against the list he had and then he paused. He paused for a very long time.
"I have a problem." he finally announced.
"Oh?" says me.
"I can't let you out." he further announces.
"Why is that?" I inquire.
He scratches his head for a second, staring at his hand held computer.
"To clear security here, we have to put a license plate number into the system. You don't have a license plate. You have a bicycle and a trailer. I need a license plate number. It won't let you out otherwise." he announced, seeming to recite clearly from his training manual, that somehow suddenly had taken on a certain TSA, red tape quality to it.
I paused for a moment to think about this exquisite set of statements. I try to cover all the possibilities when I ride around with a trailer. This was a possibility I had not considered.
"So, what should we do?" I asked. I thought that if I referred to the guard and myself as a "we" it might promote team building and problem solving and get me out of there faster. I still had to get this stuff to the boat shop, as well as grocery shopping to do, and it was starting to get hot out.
He uttered the words I dread. Not to be disparaging of the security guard profession, but seldom do the words about to be uttered ever bring any problem to a successful resolution. Now that I think about it, if the word "seldom" in the last sentence occurs more often than the word "rarely", then let me emphatically say again that RARELY do the about to be uttered words have a positive effect.
"Gotta call my supervisor." he said.
My heart fell. By osmosis, I think, the three people in line behind me in their properly licensed vehicles, felt their hearts fall as well.
The supervisor was paged while I pulled out of line over to the TSA like "holding area." I mentally prepared for the arrival of the "supervisor" and what was sure to be the subsequent cavity search of my person.
I watched as the guy in line behind me pulled up to the gate in a a huge SUV with two bags of cement in the back. Twenty seconds later he was through the gate and gone. The same with the next two cars as well. The guard and I commenced to chat a bit, I dug out my water and a granola bar and we waited.
Forty five minutes later, the supervisor calls back. The guard suddenly goes back into "Def-Con 1" mode, and walks away from me to have a whispered conversation with his boss, just out of earshot. Five minutes go by. The guard is gesturing and pointing at me, his little portable computer, my bike and trailer, but never mind that his supervisor can't see any of this. Finally he hangs up and comes back over to me.
"We are gonna override the system and let you go" he announced, as if he had just negotiated a four country peace treaty. Even more importantly, he was sparing me from any sort of personal body cavity search as well.
My spirits soar as I see that my lumberyard imprisonment is at an end! I sign the little portable computer screen, along with a requested phone number of mine, just in case that after I leave they find a bomb under the plywood somewhere in the warehouse.
I pedal off to the rest of the day.
