Off the Cuff: Grumblings of the forgetful hitchhiker

“It’s amazing,” says my friend Barney, “how easy Hollywood movies make hitching a ride look. I have never seen more than two cars drive by. The third always stops. Sometimes, the very first car pulls up.”

“It’s a film after all,” Gavin, our other friend reminds everybody. “It’ll be a long movie and several plot elements would have to be sacrificed if it showed like 25 cars going by.”

Barney is silent, contemplative almost. It’s possible his story has been hijacked before it’s even begun, but Barney being Barney, he’s resilient if nothing else.

“That’s the difference I reckon between movies and real life,” he says, craftily leaving the rest of what he wants to add unsaid, for he knows someone out of curiosity is going to perk up and ask, “Why? Did you have such an experience?”

The thing is, everyone at the table knows Barney well. He’s not just a prankster, he loves the spotlight even if it’s turned on him in this passive way. He’s just as comfortable sitting looking miserable, as he is when he’s recounting a prank, with an emphasis on animation. “What’s eating you?” asks Ryan eventually, causing Barney to sigh heavily — his version of a prelude to grand tragedy.

It turns out he travelled nearly one hundred miles to acquire a rare item of furniture for his mother-in-law (an antiques and exotic-flower collector). When he arrived at his destination, which appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, he discovered he’d left his phone at home and — shortly after paying the taxi found that his wallet had disappeared.

He’s certain he slipped it back into his jacket pocket after paying. He’s sure he had it on him when he finally — after an hour of trudging around — located the dealer (a shifty-eyed, suspicious individual) who only showed him the item with marked reluctance — a hand-carved 17th century footstool (upon which it is alleged often rested the politically-tired feet of Sophia Alekseyevna, a sister of Peter the Great.)

“To be honest, if I were the great Sophia I would have refused to place the feet of Russian royalty on a stool that had probably been used by a milkmaid. It looked rustic, amateurishly put together,” said Barney.

“A hoax,” said Gavin, summing up all our points of view in two words.

“For sure. Wasn’t going to get past one with a nose like mine,” said Barney, brightening marginally.

“Glad you didn’t fall into a trap,” said Karl, the most conservative of us.

“I’ll get myself a refill,” said Ryan, who prefers drinking his coffees in twos – one, followed by a chaser.

“Get me one as well, Ryan, please. My feet are killing me,” said Barney. “I think I probably walked half the way back.”

Achievement

“Why didn’t you try calling the wife?” asks Karl.

“With what? My phone’s left behind, remember?”

“No, from a public phone booth or something?”

“My wallet’s lost too, wake up, Karl. And it’s called a pay phone, mate, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“The good thing is you’re back,” said Ryan, returning with two coffees and secretly hoping to change the subject. “Testament to the spirit that will not stay cowed,” says Barney, “Although after all that heroism one would expect to return to a bit of a warm homecoming.”

“What happened?” asks Gavin.

“‘Honey, it’s me, I made it back,’ I called out as I entered the door and she replies, ‘Oh, it’s you.’ Who did she think it was, Santa Claus?”

“She must have been relieved though when you told her your story.”

“Can’t say it got through at all, Ryan. She was keen to tell me about this bloke from her company who won a trip to Antarctica. And now he’s there trying to win a trip back.”

“Must be a parallel there,” says Ryan. “Maybe it’s her way of saying you were luckier. At least you got a ride after 25 cars went by. How many cars drive past in Antarctica?”