My Equinox 2013 Thanksgiving Drive Day

Am I prepared?

You bet I’m prepared.  Not just physically, but emotionally.

And I may have saved a life in the process.

Wednesday evening, I made sure that the Blackbird not only had a full tank of gasoline, but that it also had my favorite holiday Yankee Candle “car jar” air freshener – Balsam and Cedar – dangling from the rear view mirror.  I also set the XM satellite radio station to Channel 17 – “Holly” – so that when I started the car on Thursday morning, I would be filled with the sounds and smells of holiday cheer.

You bet I’m prepared.

The back seat of the Blackbird is cleared and ready for the turkey dinners that I will courier from the Empire State Plaza to who knows where.

My cell phone is charged.  My “Ten for Thursday” blog post is written.

Let’s do this.

Thursday morning, 3:00 a.m.  Up and at ’em, Chuck.  This time I’m determined to be at the front of the line when the turkey dinner assignments are distributed.

Shower.  Shave.  Some diet cola to wake up.

And at 4:20 a.m., I walked through the cavernous Empire State Plaza concourse.

There’s already a line of about ten people.  Some of them must have arrived at 3:00 a.m., maybe 2:30.  Memo to self.  Next time I’m just going to arrive Wednesday night with a sleeping bag and an available wifi connection.

No matter.  I recognized some of the people from past Turkey Day delivery trips.  All is good.

Yes, there’s a line at 4:30 a.m. already.So after some casual conversations, I sat on the floor and read a book.  Well, really, what else are you going to do while you’re waiting for your delivery assignments?

5:00 a.m.  The line is already growing behind me.

And as I continue to read my book, I get a visitor.  A small little puppy.  I find out that the little dog’s name is Duke.

“Nice name,” I commented to Duke’s master.  “Surprised you didn’t name the dog ‘North Carolina.'”

“Oh,” she said.  “I actually got Duke in North Carolina, how did you know?”

Okay… I’m going to let the Blue Devils / Tar Heels reference zip by for now…

7:00.  The line has already snaked down to the State Museum and back.  It grows longer every moment.  If this line were any longer, I would have thought it was for OneDirection concert tickets.

And finally, at about 8:30 a.m., the gates open.  It’s time to claim our address tickets.  You know my routine.  I always grab tickets for a faraway address, whether it’s in the Helderbergs, the hill towns, the North Country, anywhere in those general areas.  Let’s see… Amsterdam, maybe… Petersburg, maybe… Hoosick Falls… nah…

Okay, here’s some tickets for Corinth.  Three families, five meals in total.  I can do this.  I’ll take these tickets.

And with that, I enter a second line.  In this line, we pick up the turkey dinners, the box of fixin’s, the cuplets of gravy, and the loaves of bread.  This year, we also get green tote bags, which we are to put the meals in.  So I leave the Empire State Plaza’s concourse with five turkey dinner sets, three tote bags, a half-read book, and joy in my heart.

I load everything into the Blackbird, which now smells sweetly of Balsam and Cedar air freshener.  As I drive out of the Empire State Plaza parking garage, the XM satellite radio picks up the “Holly” radio station and I’m singing along to whatever Christmas carol is on the radio.  Chuck is happy and full of the holiday spirit.

Okay.  I-787.  Alternate Route 7.  The Northway.  I pull over at the rest area in Clifton Park.  Gotta transfer my dinners to the tote bags.

Tote bags.

Where are the tote bags?

Aw crud… did I leave the tote bags back at the garage?   Rats rats rats rats…

Okay, Chuck.  This is not  the end of the world.

A quick pit stop at a local Stewart’s in Saratoga Springs – and three brown tote bags later, I’m back in business.

First drop-off – two dinners at an apartment complex.  I knock on the apartment door.  The delivery is for an elderly woman.  She uses a walker and I can see oxygen tanks nearby.  She tells me that she and her aunt will be enjoying this holiday dinner together.  I wish her all the best for the holiday season.  One dinner set down, two to go.

The second and third dinners are at a senior citizens retirement center.  I pull into the parking lot and get the two-family dinner out of the car first.  In the distance, I hear what sounds like a dog barking.  Must be in the apartment complex.  I ring the intercom doorbell for the two-family dinner recipient.

An elderly man, walking with a cane, greets me.  “Oh thank you,” he said.  “You have my dinner.”

He told me his name.  “Actually, sir, I have your dinner in the car,” I smiled, telling the resident that I needed to find another person.

“Oh, he’s in the main hall.  I’ll get him.”

Aces.

I drop off the two-family dinner with him.  I notice his walls are covered with vintage military posters.  I guess at one point in his history, he risked his life so that we have freedom today.  Truly an amazing feeling.

I went back to the car.  I’m still hearing that barking, but I’m not sure where it’s coming from.  One Stewart’s bag full of Thanksgiving meal… and back to the retirement center.  I bring the dinner to the elderly resident’s apartment.

“Don’t let my dog frighten you,” he said.

Oh THAT’s where the barking is coming from – no, wait.  His dog is a tiny chihuahua, and chihuahuas go yipyipyipyipyip, they don’t bark and howl.

I wish him a happy Thanksgiving and place the bag of food on his kitchen counter.  Thanksgiving Equinox Delivery Day 2013 done.

And I head back to the car.  It was a successful trip, and now it’s time to head back home.  I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend Nicole and her family for Thanksgiving dinner, and I can’t wait –

I’m still hearing that barking.  It’s louder.  More sorrowful.

And it’s coming from the parking lot.

More specifically … from a red pickup truck in the parking lot.

I walk over to the truck.

I look around.  The truck has snow and ice on it, as if it hadn’t been driven in a while.  The dog is shivering inside.

And all of a sudden, I had a flashback.  Back to a few years ago, in a Walmart parking lot.  Never again.

Damn it, I need to call the cops.  But what’s the number?  I quickly drove to the local Cumberland Farms in the center of town, about a mile and a half from the retirement community.

I go inside the convenience store and ask if they know where the sheriff’s office or local police office is.  One of the store workers writes down the sheriff’s office phone number and gives it to me.

Yes.  I called the sheriff’s office and filled them in.  The desk officer took my name and number, and asked if I had the license plate of the truck.  I said I could drive back and get it for them.  The desk officer said they were sending a patrol car to that location, and that I should meet them there.

I raced back there so quickly, I could have gotten a speeding ticket and I wouldn’t have cared.

The sheriff’s car was there.  I told her what I saw.  She assessed the situation and agreed with me.  The dog was trapped in that car – for God knows how long – and they would take the next steps.  It’s now in the hands of the police.  I’ve done everything I can.

Later that evening, I called the police again and asked if they had any information regarding the dog.

They told me that the dog was turned over to Animal Control.

That’s all I needed to know.  As far as I was concerned, the dog was now safe.  I’m not even going to fathom why anyone would leave a dog in a pickup truck in this type of weather.  I don’t care if the dog was in the truck for two minutes or two hours or two I don’t know how longs.

You could see in the picture.  That dog has a very thin coat and it was maybe 20 degrees above zero that morning.

Listen.  I could deliver Equinox Thanksgiving Day turkey dinners for the rest of my life.

This year was more than just delivering dinners.

This year was about doing the right thing.

Without question.