You may remember how our spy Hick rushed off to France last Sunday just as soon as The Pony was finished getting his special award (nowhere near a leg lamp) and Val had given up on eating petrified carrots and zucchini from her catered lunch plate.
The original plan was for Hick to return on Wednesday, after 10 days of dismantling and packing a machine bound for his workplace. Hick was concerned about his time there. That's unusual for Hick. He never met a stranger, and he never heard of a place he didn't want to go. You may recall that Hick has traveled to such exotic locales as Wales, Germany, Brazil, and New Jersey. Oh, and he also spent six months or so working in Saudi Arabia back before I met him, as a mechanic, not for his present employer. So his level of discomfort surprised me.
Hick seemed to be clinging to the hope that Heinz, his German associate from Switzerland, would get him through. In fact, once he got his phone going, he mentioned in every communication something about Heinz. How he loaned him his phone. Went to dinner with him. Would be driving him the hour to the airport for his return trip.
Then Hick's Heinz obsession grew dark. Heinz was planning on going back to Switzerland on Saturday. No. Heinz was going back to Switzerland Friday night. Hick supposed he could find something to do all weekend. I told him that he was in a hotel in a tourist town. Not in solitary confinement in a maximum security prison. I was sure he could find someone at the hotel to direct him to food and entertainment. Then he was worried about getting to the airport. "There's a train that goes there. I guess I'll have to take that."
All at once, Hick sends a text Friday that he's leaving France! "I got a flight for Saturday morning be Home around 8:00 pm Heinz is driving me nuts really miss home and you." He'll go back to Germany between the time The Pony graduates and we take him to the University of Oklahoma for an incoming freshmen camp in June.
WHAT? As you might imagine, I sent Hick a text back. "Okay. Five days off my not-you vacation."
Hick went on to explain at 10:31 a.m. my time that he was at a hotel right next to the airport, and was going to Pizza Hut and to take pictures of the airport. What all tourists do in France, I suppose.
Anyhoo...once he landed in Charlotte, he called and said that Heinz was uncomfortable speaking French, and was bent out of shape about the move (he's a salesman, really, and not a factory guy like Hick) and said he could ship that machine back much easier from Germany than from France. So they had most of it trucked to their plant in Germany, to await Hick's return.
Spies fly by the seat of their pants, it seems.