Filipino Cowboy

Nothing really amazing happens to me on a day-to-day basis like my buddy "Big Daddy" Chris.

My days aren't chalk full of people intent upon wanting to do bodily injury to me. Don't get me wrong, I think this is a good thing. I don't want to spend my day dodging bullets or trying to tackle large transvestites. I think if the most exciting thing that happens to me at work is an occasional unruly customer with a bad design taste, that's FINE with me.

Of course, recently SOMETHING did happen to us recently that was worth noting. Guess what...somehow it involves my bud Chris in it wouldn't you guess?

So anyway, those of you who've kept up know that my wife was finally moving here from overseas. So before she left she had told me she had 10 boxes picked up from her apartment and it was being shipped over. Alright COOL. I didn't know exactly where 10 boxes worth of stuff would fit in my little apartment, but somehow it will work.

Anyway, flash forward a few weeks and we get married here in town. We have about 3 days between our ceremony and the day we leave on our honeymoon. I get this letter in the mail from some kind of shipping company called Lavino or something like that.

It's got this message saying that the container where my wife's stuff was kept had been randomly picked by US Customs to be scanned and that we had to pay $70 for this scanning fee before getting our stuff. WTF? Customs decides to PICK a random box and then charges the customer to get their personal items scanned?! What kind of scam is that?

Anyway, it had a name and a COUPLE numbers to reach this person. Nothing unusual here but keep this in mind...

I call the name shown on the letter and ask what about this fee and what we'd have to do to pick up the stuff. I find out they have no idea what I'm talking about. For one thing this company is only in charge of taking the big containers off the boats. For all he knows, he's expecting me to roll up with a giant semi-truck and drive one of these big Matson containers back home. "UH.....I just want my wife's 10 boxes not some huge warehouse container"

Finally after what amounted to some roundabout detective work, I find out there's all these steps I'd have to take to get our stuff. Apparently the container notice was improperly sent to us and should have gone to Island Movers who owns that particular container and the stuff within it. To get our stuff, we had to clear customs ourselves over at Pier 1, pay some extra freight charge over at Pier 2, and then run our ass back to Pier 42 where Island Movers was located.

What was most frustrating was being sent from one Pier to another because we had to get some stupid thing approved here, another fee paid there. When I asked the guy at the final pier why they didn't tell us there was this other fee involved, he scolded me for not calling the number on my letter. I looked at my letter and it had 2 numbers associated with one name. I had originally called the first number but somehow I was magically supposed to know the 2nd number was to another company? I think they do this kind of thing intentionally. I'd make people run around too if I had to work at a warehouse at the end of some lonely pier staring at wooden crates all day.

Here's the part where I was getting to... (Ho long story eh?). Anyway, my bud Chris offers to help us get Florence's stuff home for us because he has a truck. Not just any truck, but one that has a big "HAWAIIAN" sticker stuck on the back window which I normally translate as "Don't touch". Also look in the dictionary for "SAMOAN" which I'm pretty sure means the same thing.

I digress.

So anyway, after spending a couple hours running from one Pier to another in a scavenger hunt from hell, all 3 of us wind up at the final Pier where we're supposed to finally get our stuff.

We spot a giant wooden crate with my wife's name on it and I start signing paperwork. Chris is standing outside getting his truck ready.

Before I know it, this filipino guy with a tight shirt, tight blue jeans and knee high cowboy boots, rolls up with his little 4-wheel lifting vehicle, picks up this giant crate and carts it out behind Chris's truck and just plops it behind there.

I turn the corner after doing all the paperwork and I see Chris staring at the giant wooden crate next to his truck with this big "UH..........." on his face. Now my mind starts calculating because I can obviously see the problem. Remember in kindergarden where they have these plastic shapes and you had to try to fit it into the corresponding holes? Well, my mind starts doing the same mental connection....BIG crate ... tiny truck. There was no way we'd fit that in the truck not to mention my weenie Acura sedan.

The crate was too big to lift. I don't care if you had 4 huge Samoans, that sucka had 10 boxes worth of stuff inside AND it was packed tight with styrofoam and wood.

Apparently, that's all the shipping companies do. They give you the crate and you're in charge of the rest. Summammabeetch.

So I turn to the Filipino Cowboy guy and I can see him trying to mask his laughter. You can just tell that this is his entertainment for the week. "Let's see how these 2 idiots try to get this done." I put on my best oh-help-me-please-I'd-be-so-grateful-you-summamabeetch face and ask him if he had some hammers or crowbars for us.

He sighs like he's doing us the world's biggest favor and putt-putts his little lift over to the crate again and hands over a crowbar and hammer to us. Careful to add in, "Oh, I usually charge shippers $5 to use my tools".

Now picture me and my friend Chris with a crowbar and hammer in our hands wondering how we'd tackle this box. I think the closest we've ever been to breaking down crates is in a video game of Half-Life or Doom.

Filipino Cowboy looks at us staring at the box for about 10 seconds and says, "You guys don't even know how to use a crowbar?"

Chris answers, "No, but if you ask me how to use my guns I know how to do that". I think Filipino Cowboy cut his snide remarks a bit after that. POP POP he opens part of the box for us and hands us the tools back. He obviously had open crates before and could have done it in seconds.

For the next 15 - 20 minutes Filipino Cowboy and one of the managers stands there and watches me, Chris and Florence dismantle this wooden crate held together by dozens of rusty tetanus-shot nails and screws. We kicked, yanked, pulled, hammered, & bashed this thing apart. Styrofoam and wood splinters flying everywhere. We finally got my wife's boxes out.

After all of this we not only had to pack away the 10 boxes we wanted. We had to get rid of the crate boards, nails and trash ourselves. How humbug eh? We threw everything we could into our cars and got away from there as fast as we could. If I never see another Pier again in my life I'll be a happy camper.

People...... stick to using USPS or FedEx if you have to. Shipping things yourself sucks.