These are follow-up stories to my chance meeting with Sir Frank Williams on my way from the Formula One race in Montreal to the Formula One race at Indy, in 2004.
“I’m sorry sir, but I am unable to place that call for you”.
“Wait a second operator, please don’t hang up. I have been trying for two hours to make this call, could you just tell me how much it costs, I have ten dollars in quarters, or I`ll use my Visa card. I cannot call this person collect, you do not know how much against my religion that is!”
“I’m sorry sir but you cannot make this call from this station.” then she hangs up.
I place the receiver back on its hook, and wander out into the 8 lane street as cars blare their horns and I am almost run over, in a complete state of confusion – otherwise known as Indiana. I’m muttering out loud to myself now. “What in the world is going on? You mean to tell me I cannot even complete the simplest task of a phone call?? I’m a complete simpleton!”
It puts me in mind of a comedians joke, about how they should take people in New York city who wander around talking to themselves, and pair them up, so it looks like they’re having a conversation. That gives me a bit of a laugh, but soon there’s just disappointment again. On a scale of one to ten this is a 7. To put it in perspective, a 5, was arriving back to Windsor from the F1 race in Montreal, last week, to find that someone had stolen my brand new Schwinn mountain bike from the back porch of my apartment building. My only legal means of transportation, now that my Canadian driver’s license is suspended. It’s the thirty-second bicycle stolen from me since moving to Canada, back in 1973. I can hear my dad chuckling from somewhere up above, but they steal them locked-up too dad!
Stopping at phone booth number six, I hesitate. “I’ll just apologize right off the bat and tell him I’ll send him the money for the cost of this call.” That sounds okay. “Yes operator, a collect call to a mister Frank Williams from mister Donald Lugers…”
“I’m sorry sir but…” This time I slam the receiver down hard on the hook, and fight the rage that is boiling up from somewhere deep in my brain. “Well, that’s it then, guess I can reduce the number of possible people for my ‘one call’ to maybe bail me out of jail down to zero now.” I head the depression off quickly by telling myself, “Dude, what are you getting so upset about. You knew it couldn’t be true, he is an important man, and probably doesn’t even have time to see you anyway. And besides that, you are in Indy, racing Mecca!! You are here to see a Formula 1 race remember?” Suddenly most of my sorrow passes and I am back in a fairly good mood again. I had decided not to drink at all before meeting up with Frank.
