Tier one is occupied by the “friends” that will come over to your house, drink your beer, pee in your pool and kick the cat when you’re not looking.
Second degree friends are a slightly more refined bunch. These are the folks whose company you can actually stand and would not be opposed to grabbing a drink or dinner with or just willing to be seen accompanying each other in public.
Third degree friends are the real deal; they’re willing to listen to you drone on and on about that girl who ordered the steak and lobster on your Friday night date and didn’t offer to pay or how that bitch in accounting is trying to ruin your life.
The next tier is filled with very high quality people – airport friends. If you’re getting married and look over to your left (right for ladies), there’s pretty good odds that you’ve been taken to the airport by or dropped off by one of the people standing there
And, at the top of the heap, we have moving friends. Anyone willing to give up a Saturday and help you move is when you know you’ve found a good friend. Might as well put ‘em on your speed dial list right now because they’re not going anywhere for a long time.
Saturday, I had a great crew of ‘moving friends’ to help me load up the U-Haul and put all my junk into storage for the next 13 months. A big thank you goes out to Jimm, Kurt, EK, Do’, Mark and Don – without you guys there’s no way Saturday would have been as successful as it was.
The day started off with Jimm and me picking up the truck down by SDSU; a location that made no sense to me considering that there is a U-Haul site less than 2 miles from my house. When the lady turned the keys over to me she said, “Oh, you’re getting one of the good ones!” Clearly, this woman and I differ as to our opinion of the definition of a ‘good [truck]’ because that thing was a beast to keep on the road. Alternatively, if this really was one of the ‘good ones’ then I can only assume that half of the trucks this company rents out end up as flaming scrap heaps at the end of a move. Cue U-Haul truck t-boning a tanker truck complete with huge explosion and Little Johnny’s tricycle wheel rolling dramatically from the wreckage. I’m sure we all remember those old black and white movies where a guy is driving and is constantly turning the steering wheel from side to side to assure the audience that he is, in fact, driving. My experience on Saturday was very similar, except that instead of ensuring those around me that I was actively driving, I was forced to constantly turn the steering wheel from side to side to prevent the truck from leaving my lane and taking out one of the cars on either side of me.
The actual moving of boxes and furniture went both smoothly and quickly and we remained ahead of schedule for most of the day. We probably lifted a combined total of about 3000 pounds of stuff over the course of the day - a testament to the fact that I own too much crap. Although, I am proud to say that I probably threw away or donated about 25% of my belongings.
All that heavy lifting and sweating in the afternoon heat (it was about 90 degrees that day in Hemet – the final stop on the moving tour) lead to what was easily the highlight of the day. After moving the last and certainly heaviest piece of furniture we were finally able to relax and enjoy a little bit of the afternoon. It was then that I cracked what had to be the most refreshing, tastiest, ice cold beer I’ve ever had in my entire life. Add in the homemade chicken wings, mac and cheese, and bruschetta that my mom threw together and all the stress from the move seemed to melt away.