June 1, 2011, software said, “2:11 PM.” I’d give it a rough estimate of June 1-2, just to be safe and catch the Sun and Moon both in Gemini. Just easier.
Bit of family business came up. My little (Scorpio) mother wanted a document executed and fired off to lawyers, like, right away. That “Your prompt attention in this matter” clause always gets her. Nothing that couldn’t be done either online, over the wire, or by carrier pigeon. Pony Express, even, however, I was overnighted a package, via FedEx, I signed it, and then dropped it into the pre-paid overnight (FedEx) package to Sister, in California.
All good thus far, I hope. No real urgency, but I played along, being the dutiful son.
I went in search of a downtown FedEx drop box. There is one, I thought, outside the government building, like the Federal Courthouse. I thought. No such luck.
I pulled out my handy phone and input, “FedEx drop box.”
Arrows popped up. I know, there used to be a drop box outside of the post office, close to the Humble Oils location. However, I didn’t want to back track, besides, although the phone lied about the location, I knew I’d seen one. Someplace.
The Virgo in the coffee shop, sweet lass, she got similar results on her phone, “See? It shows one right here. Wait, that’s funny,” she glanced over her glasses, “I don’t see one here.”
Two of the phone’s locations didn’t have any kind of drop box, much less a FedEx drop off point. As I wandered the mean, downtown streets, clutching an icy coffee beverage and my FedEx envelope, addressed to Sister in Northern Cal., I started to wonder. Was I losing my mind? I know I’ve seen those stupid drop-ship points everywhere. Eclipses can play funny tricks, especially on the Sagittarius/Gemini axis.
Through the reflections and the heavy, insulted glass, in a downtown bank building, I saw a bicycle cop, probably standing guard duty. I pushed my way through the heavy, revolving door and I stepped into the cool, pristine bank building lobby.
“Get some good questions, huh?” I asked. I further inquired about the location of a FedEx drop box. Poor Park Police, not a clue. He did point me to a postal annex of sorts in the back of the building’s lobby. I wandered and inquired. Turns out there was a single FedEx drop box, on the 12th floor, “Take those elevators over there,” he gestured to the farthest set.
I rode up, stepped into the lonely 12th floor, looked left, right, looked down the other hallway, found the drop box, slipped the envelope in, and went back to catch an elevator down to my level. Just before I exited the building, I stopped and asked that cop what the weirdest question was.
“And I don’t mean, ‘where’s the Alamo,’ or ‘why is the Alamo downtown,’ no, those questions don’t count,” I said.
He shrugged, grinned an affable grin, “They ask where Pee Wee is, you know….”
I nodded quickly, trying to avoid the tired trope, “No, I mean weird questions.”
“Oh, like the guy who was asking us to get his money back? He’d given some cash to someone to buy drugs, thought we’d help him get his money back.”
I looked, takes a seriously off-the-wall comment like that to leave me dumbstruck.
Being from Austin, with a ponytail and floral-print shirt, sandals and all, I get used to assumptions. “From Austin” means “smokes pot and has a dog.” I don’t smoke pot and I don’t have a dog. Just part of my eccentricities. However, that comment from the cop, if it was a real situation, then I’m at a loss.
I reflected for the next hour on the conversation, the FedEx package, and why there’s a FedEx drop box in front of the Post Office. Personally, I prefer the US Post. Got the nicest UPS guy, knows me well, and knows when to drop stuff off. For almost all my shipping, I prefer USPS. When I did a lot of eBay buying and selling, USPS was preferred. Cheap and reliable, like me.
The guys at my post office finally know me, and they’re just the nicest people. Anyway, why there was a FedEx drop box there, I’m unsure. Seems to have disappeared, though. I can understand a FedEx box in the building, presumably the 12th floor, collections or titles, or something legal-sounding, perhaps that’s the floor and it is needed.
The eclipse, what does this have to do with eclipses? Pause, think, consider what that cop told me. I’m sure, in part, his reaction to me, a slightly glib, slightly eccentric, touristy-looking loon, I’m sure, a long-haired, over-fed, leaping gnome, I’m sure, his comment was based on a quick assumption.
That’s the eclipse. Patently false information, cursory glance doesn’t answer the question.