I never thought I’d be the kind of person who buys a 55-inch television, let alone one who drags said television through the streets of Helsinki in sub-zero temperatures. But life happens and plans change and sometimes the result involves carrying 20 kilograms of smart cell technology up a hill on a Monday night.
You probably have questions—chief among them: Don’t you and Johann know about Amazon? We do. We also know about Uber. And, more importantly, the No. 7 tram schedule. But one of us really likes doing things the hard way. And the other enjoys doing things the entertaining way. That’s what makes us a great team.
Some people will tell you that relationships are all about compromise and communication, but I think they require also a good bit of humor and the ability to self-amuse. I mean, look: Having a loved one communicate to me that he needs help carrying a large-screen TV more than two miles and then up four flights of stairs is only going to get us so far as a couple. My blog will take things the rest of the way.
So now you know my reason for playing along with this scenario. But what about Johann, you ask. Why did he want to carry an oversized television across town instead of loading it onto the tram? Well—and this is a direct quote—he didn’t want to “inconvenience anyone.”
I heaved the box off the asphalt for effect and said, “I am pretty inconvenienced by this.”
And he said, “I mean on the tram. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone on the tram.”
This should prompt another question, that being, has Johann ever been on a tram? The answer appears to be no. If you’ve ever ridden one then you know what I mean. The tram is the very definition of inconvenience. It stops every two blocks for anyone who wants to get on or off, including drunks and middle school students in packs of ten or more. Here in Helsinki, the trams even stop for people who don’t want to get on, so long as that person is anywhere near a crosswalk. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. I’ve seen a tram stop for a woman who was on her way to a trash can. I’m talking full and complete stop in the middle of morning rush hour.
People think that busses are the lowest form of public transportation, but they’re not. It’s the tram. Give a bus the right kind of driver and it can go rogue. But the tram? No. The tram will just keep running on the tracks, making all the stops. Always has, always will.
I tried explaining all this to Johann but he tuned me out pretty quickly. It could have been because I was being a shrill or, more likely, because he was pulling his back out of alignment. Maybe a little bit of both.
“Look,” he said, cutting me off mid-argument as we switched hands in the middle of the sidewalk. “I just don’t want to be the person getting on the tram like this.”
He emphasized the “like this” the way a normal person would if he or she were, say, bleeding profusely from the face or covered in vomit.
I pretended to look at the box. “I see what you mean,” I said. “This TV is going offend someone. Better to carry it 50 minutes to our house.”
“The TV is not going to offend someone,” he replied, waving my joke into the Finnish cold. “It’s just going to be in the way.”
For the record, we were having this conversation at 6 p.m. on a Monday night criminally close to the bike lane. And I mean that literally. In Helsinki, it is an actual crime to be in the bike lane without a bike. You float a TV into that space for even one second and you can get a fine. But, last I checked, there was nothing stopping us from taking one on a tram.
As many women will tell you, the tram argument was not one that could be won in the traditional way—with logic and reason and $3. No. This was a “wear ‘em down” situation. A “run out the clock” scenario. A “let him step in a puddle with his ‘good’ Adidas” moment.
Long story short, it took five minutes. Johann was at the helm of the TV, not even bearing the brunt of the weight, when he stopped and said, “Well there’s a tram stop right by that hotel if you want to try that.”
I have never in my life been happier to go to a Radisson.
As predicted, when we boarded the tram, it was more than half empty, which meant that there was plenty of room for us and our oversized cardboard box. No sooner had we gotten settled than a pack of ticket inspectors swooped through each door, peeling off into every section like a middle-aged, all-female SWAT team.
I should note, in case it’s not clear, that in Helsinki, you’re on the honor system to purchase a ticket whenever you use public transportation. The transit police does random checks with stunning irregularity, but the fine (about $90) is enough to make people avoid the risk.
“Did you buy your ticket?” I whispered to Johann. As a non-resident, I usually buy my ticket via mobile app, which I did as we were waiting by the Radisson. Johann, on the other hand, has a student card, which he usually has to scan once on the tram or at the entrance to the Metro. I had not seen him swipe in, which made me wonder if we had actually found the second most painful way to get a TV back to our apartment.
“Oh I don’t have to,” Johann replied. “I have a monthly pass.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled slowly.
“What?” he asked.
“I just want to get this straight,” I said. “You have a monthly transit pass and you still didn’t want to take the tram?”
“It’s inconvenient,” he said.
And that is when I screamed into my own jacket. For self-amusement’s sake.
If the second half of my year was a metaphor it would be this: a 55-inch television that I never wanted shoved into my hands and then forced through the rear door of an east-bound city tram. None of it was part of the plan—for my Monday. For my year. For my life. But, as they say, life is what happens when you’re busy making plans and love has a way of changing life all around.
This is a long way of saying that I just got some big news—and it was unexpected and somewhat negative and never something that I imagined would happen to me, but it did and now I am left holding the proverbial flat screen TV. Sometimes you just don’t have much of a choice but to go along with what is handed to you. So you adapt. You rally. You adjust expectations. You put on a second pair of gloves and just keep moving, one way or another. Carrying everything you need and maybe some of what you never thought you would.
To be continued…
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Aacck! (I HATE waiting!) But in the meantime, I recently read a joke about FINNs (!) that made me think of you Two Crazy Kids:
Q: How do you know if a Finn likes you?
A: He’s staring at your shoes instead of his own.
oh sorry! but i’ll explain myself just as soon as i’m able. (i have to let some ink dry before I can broadcast.) anyway – that joke is so good! johann is forever trying to talk me into a pair of karhus and i just cannot. i draw the line at adidas gazelles… preferably in orange or chartreuse.
This reminded me of the time we transported three man-high forsythia bushes on a no. 8 tram in Zurich. Johann would have died.
omg. we had such a good laugh over this mental image last night. and yes, Johann agrees that he would have died. xx
oy, such a cliffhanger…
oh – sorry for the alarm. all is well! got a little scrambling to do and i have to give it some time before I can explain myself properly, but it’s all good. more to come.
Oh dear, I hope you’re okay. Hang in there.
Oh sorry for the alarm! I am just fine, everything will be fine! But I got some juggling to do :) More to come. xx
Oh, your stories of Johann slay me! I’m the daughter of a Finn who married a wild gypsy. Our house was very very unique. And oh the Holiday! Going from one set of grandparent’s house to the other was like going through a whipsaw! But not in a bad way, just wildly wildly different.
And, I’m choosing to believe that the end of this story is good. That’s the gypsy in me. The Finn in me just hopes that no one gets noticed or upset.
Oh I am fascinated by your parents! What a combination… A life not without its challenges, I’m sure, but I imagine you got the best of both worlds. Would love to hear about that – perhaps over a glass of wine?
As for me, I feel slightly guilty now about being so dramatic. But I am fine – all is well. And everything will be. I also don’t want to be the type of person who only shares highlights and filtered pictures when in fact reality is a bit less rosy. More to come just as soon as the last piece is back in its place.
I’m currently sitting on a couch that faces a giant flatscreen television. Before The Mr moved in, I had no television and my couch faced two other chairs. Love makes us do crazy things, doesn’t it?
yes ma’am. never thought i’d see the day. but i must admit, i kind of like it. we are not couch potatoes, but we have a lovely couch and i do admit i like the time spent on it.