That Time I Drove A 14 Foot U-Haul Into San Francisco (And Almost Killed A Cab Driver)

So, hi, my name is Jamie Varon and I’m the most impulsive person I know in the Universe. Before Monday, December 28th, I had been riddled with a two-month-long indecision that, when I wasn’t distracted by the shenanigans that are my family spending time together, I would get alone and want to cry all over my hands because MY FUTURE WAS NOT CLEAR. On a scale of fortune telling, my crystal ball would have been pitch black and that makes me want to punch puppies in an irrational way that also makes me sound like a total puppy-punching asshole. Which I am not. I love puppies. I want puppies.

Then, on Monday, I met Nicole (one of my blog girl crushes) IRL in San Francisco, where she had just moved. The night before, I was planning a solo trip around the world to start in February, but I kept feeling something in my gut that was not hunger pangs, but was more of a — you should not do this — feeling. But, then Nicole and I had Happy Hour and over three glasses of champagne each and the best bruschetta I’ve ever had in my entire life, we decided that living together in SF for a year would complete our lives. We would keep each other accountable. Help each other with our similar, but also quite different goals. We would make lists of all the lists we wanted to make. Oh, and we would explore San Francisco like we were writing the definitive guide on how to have the most fabulous life in an equally fabulous city.

From there, it was a whirlwind of amazing THISWASTHERIGHTDECISIONSNESS. It was 5 p.m. when we decided to live together. By 6:30 p.m., we had three appointments for the next day to look at apartments. The next day, I met Nicole in the city and we decided to go to our first appointment ridiculously early so we could look around a bit. We walked down the block from our apartment and there was a Safeway. Cool. Then, a Trader Joe’s in the distance. OMG AWESOME. Then, on our way to Trader Joe’s, we saw a sex shop and we’re like, DID THEY MAKE THIS STREET FOR US!? And, as if it could not get any better, we walked past Trader Joe’s and to the right, I saw some green lettering and when I realized what it was, I grabbed Nicole’s arm, motioned to the right, and we both proceeded to scream “OH MY GOD!” quite audibly because there was a Barnes & Noble. Like, across the street from Trader Joe’s and the sex shop and then a Cost Plus and I don’t care if it’s all chains and not indie, but we both screamed like little school girls and I think we alarmed the people walking by because we were so loud it would have been embarrassing had it not been THE MOST EXCITING THING EVER.

Even before we saw the apartment, we had decided we were going to basically do anything in order to move in. But, unbelievably, we looked at the apartment, it was adorable, they liked us, and within two hours, we had been approved, signed the lease, and were given the keys. WITH A $150 SECURITY DEPOSIT ONLY. It was like the Universe had come together for a pow wow, decided that Nicole and I living together would serve a purpose of greater good and made everything so seamlessly easy that both of us were sitting there going, “Uh, how was this so easy and perfect?” Because, kids, that’s what happens when shit’s meant to be.

Then, it was moving day. And, while Nicole had a few suitcases and an air mattress, I had the makings of our entire apartment in my storage and enough clothes to literally outfit an entire army (granted that army would look so hot they’d want to look at themselves in the mirror constantly, but that’s a whole other thing). So, we went to rent a U-Haul. And, they didn’t have the small U-Haul which is actually quite manageable, but instead had the 14 foot available and, while, okay, I’m not the worst driver in the world, I’m also not the best. And, there was no way in hell we needed a 14 foot U-Haul, but we had to make it work. So, we packed the thing with all the things in my storage, then drove it to my parent’s house in order to grab my clothes and mattress.

We ran into a little bit of a snafu when the mattress was like EIGHTEEN THOUSAND POUNDS without a handle and somehow before the mattress was outside the door, Nicole had fell and totally snagged a bump on her head and I had to run to the bathroom in order to urinate before I peed in my pants. In retrospect, it was hilarious. In the moment, well, it was hilarious, actually. Pee-in-pants hilarious to be specific. Like, I should have had a video camera hooked up somewhere because it’s a shame this wasn’t documented and then put on YouTube so that Nicole and I would be those stupid girls people laugh at when they’re high. Dream big, people. Dream big.

Um. Then, the fun started. As in, I drove this 14 foot U-Haul into San Francisco from the suburbs, a drive I hate making even when I had a compact car that I could care less about. The traffic! The lane changes! The OMFG I’m going to actually murder someone and why did U-Haul allow me to drive this truck because that was, honestly, their first and last mistake. Although, admittedly, I did feel pretty badass being able to drive that truck, which I did a really good and safe job of until I actually got into the city and turned onto my street and clipped a parked taxi. With the driver inside. He got out of the car and I braced myself for a serious verbal lashing, but, instead, as if ANGELS WERE SINGING, he gave me a thumbs up, and got back into his taxi. JUST LIKE THAT. No, “you’re an idiot, why is U-Haul so dumb and how in the world did you think it was a good idea for you, Jamie Varon, to drive a 14 foot truck into San Francisco?” Just a friendly thumbs up. Where am I? Is this the Twilight Zone? I’m scared.

Then, I parked the truck in the middle of the street, Nicole and I hustled to unload the truck (admittedly, she hustled more than me), I banged my knee on the trailer and now have a massive bruise and can’t really walk down hills in a graceful manner and then I returned the truck but not before I got lost twice because the paper said it was on 11th Street but that bitch U-Haul place was on BRYANT and how the hell am I supposed to know that? But, I delivered the truck, got lost trying to get back to my apartment, finally called a taxi, found Nicole in Cost Plus, bought a bottle of wine, unpacked, got kind of drunk, and then slept like an exhausted little baby in our new apartment.

So, yeah, welcome to the last four days of my life. Look for tons more adventure stories in 2010. Just, this time it won’t be stories of Italian men. It will be stories of men living in San Francisco that I hope won’t Google me and find my blog where I detailed the intricacies of our date. And where I talked about, on a scale of turned-on-ness, how hot the first kiss was and whether or not I’m going to sleep with him.

Shit. I totally need to change my name, don’t I?

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