Speciman

 

Have you ever looked at someone for a long time and thought “I know this man all too well”, only to be amazed that there is more to this person than one would think.

I know I did with my husband, Albert because whenever I drive home with him, I only see a self-absorbed man interested in his own desires. But last night changed all that.

I had just ended my day at Fairview near the Twin Cities area. Like usual, I would stop by my Albert’s office at the University of Minnesota to pick him up, and then we would drive home together, unless of course he was working from home. 

And this particular night was note-worthy for having the worst snowstorm the twin cities had ever experienced in early November.  And true to form, in addition to me driving, as I always did, Albert had an excursion planned.  He wanted to “swing by” St. Paul to pick up his Pavoni espresso maker that he had dropped off for repair a few days prior.  He couldn’t be dissuaded!  He couldn’t bear one more morning’s Dunn Bros. cappuccino.  “It will just take a few minutes it is practically on the way home.” Annoyed enough as I was, I asked Albert “where exactly?” To which he answered, just over near Battle Creek Park.  So picture this, a long day at work, freezing temperatures, wind blowing the snow so strongly that visibility was non-existent; but I knew better to argue “fine, you navigate.”

 

So here we are, driving a good 10 miles east to get the damn coffee maker. The highway was treacherous. The roads were slippery, the cars that hadn’t spun out were barely moving, and the winds were howling. The wind shield wipers could not keep up with the snow.  I was convinced we would get into an accident and of course I’d be the one dead, and Albert would have my life insurance.

Finally, he directs me off the highway and up a steep cliff.  Grateful for the safety of our four-wheel drive SUV, I was shocked to see a woman walking through the snow.  I was amazed that she didn’t slide down the steep sidewalk. 

More circuitous turns and we finally arrive at the home of the man who repairs upscale coffee makers in his garage.  It won’t surprise you to learn that his house was noteworthy for its very steep driveway.  Before I even make it to the top, I am fretting about how I will get down. Meanwhile Albert and Gus are chewing the fat about the merits of the Pavoni while I am thinking about the long drive home to Minnetonka.

 I finally catch Albert’s eye and he grabs his “pride and joy” and gets into the car.  Miraculously I am able to back down the driveway and make my way back to the highway.

We aren’t on the highway for five minutes when I notice the woman whom I had seen walking down the steep hill; only now she is walking along highway 94!  I pull over in front of her, and tell her to get in.  Despite the weather, I am surprised that she does so.  “I can’t stand to see you walking in this weather, where are you going?”.  “I was hoping to catch a bus home.”  “On the freeway?”  “Well, I was supposed to have a ride home, but they couldn’t make it out in this weather.”  Albert loads her address into the GPS, and off we go. 

As a west-sider, I am not very familiar with St. Paul, but I certainly learned a lot about it that night.  As far as I could tell, Sydney lived in a house that was equally far from everyplace.  But, after half an hour of seeing all there is to see of St. Paul, we arrived at her home.  She offered a gracious thank you and bolted out of the car to her front door.  I was charmed by the Christmas lights in the window.

Twenty more minutes of driving and we are still in St. Paul.  The “excursion” had taken more than two hours.  I was a bit annoyed (and not my best self) when I said “I sure wish we had picked your coffee maker up another night!”   “Yes, but then we wouldn’t have been able to give Sydney a ride home.”