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Tuesday, October 12, 2004

"POR FAVOR, NO NECESITAMOS AYUDA!!!"

This is a back log from when we first got out here to LA, but it had to be done...the shipment of boxes has already arrived from Boston, so we rent a U-Haul the day after we arrive, so we can drive down to the AmTRACK station and pick the fucking shipment up. First of all, I must say, that the U-Haul we are sent to is not in the nicest area of LA...second of all, as soon as we pull into the U-Haul parking lot, we are ambushed by a pack up Mexican men...I am just like, "What the fuck is going on?" I've never seen anything like this in my life. Why are these men attacking my car?? At one point, it becomes apparent to me that they are trying to see if we need "labor" for the day. In other words, do we need help moving? No, as a matter of fact, we do not...
Beth will be driving the extended-length van because I have already refused to and she is selected by default. However, the van will be put on my credit card since she already paid for the one in Boston. I go inside to give them my credit card number, at which point, I am finger-printed...now, this is beginning to seem a little sketchy to me. I have never been finger-printed to rent a U-Haul before, the woman at the counter appears to speak little to no English, nor will she get off the phone to explain to me exactly why I am being finger-printed. It becomes apparent to me, however, that if I refuse, I will not be getting my van for the day.
Finally, the charade inside is up, I go out to the parking lot where they are instructing Beth to get in the van. I go to get in my car because she will be following me home since I know the area a little better. It is at this point that I notice a short Mexican man open the back of the van, climb inside and begin to shut the door. I'm just like, "what the fuck?" Beth starts the van, apparently, this man is now in the van's cargo hold unbeknowest to her. I am afraid she is about to drive away with this man. I grab my baseball bat. Thank god, I now carry it with me everywhere I go (afterall, you never know when you may have to hit a few balls...)...I get out of my car and run up to the van, fling the back door open. The man is yelling at me in Spanish...I am about ready to start swinging. Beth gets out of the van when she realizes all of the commotion in the back. Apparently, while I was in the store being finger-printed, the man had come up to her window on the driver's side of the van and had said something to her. She couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, so she just smiled and nodded. He had apparently asked her if she needed help moving; when he saw her nod, he took that to mean the affirmative.
I know little Spanish. It is at this point that Beth taught me a key phrase..."No necesitamos ayada..." stellar..."WE DON'T NEED HELP." And after being accosted several times in the parking lot of Home Depot by hispanic men asking me if I needed help painting/carpeting/building, I realize this will be a very valuable phrase indeed...
I'm going to put that one right up there with, "No puedo bailar..."

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