Attempting the Two Mile Schlepp

I needed wine.  Thanksgiving will require many things, including wine.  I know a store that has reliable wine at good value.  They deliver for free.  I got my order ready on the web site and gave them a ring.  This began a laborious conversation, trying to make French and Italian vintner names and appellations intelligible in Chinese.  We got into a routine of counting rows on the web site to positively identify the wines I meant.  In the end, the five things I’d order all seemed clear. 

Another gent called me back and hour later.  He needed the directions.  And, by the way, one of the wines ordered was sold out.  “Really?  I’ll need to get back on line to pick another one.” "I'm ready!"  “You’ll need to give me some time for that.  I’m at the gym.”  “OK.  Please send your address so I know where I’m going.” “Done.”

When the kid arrived, a few hours later, he was cold and frazzled.  He must have grabbed a cab in desperation, after attempting the two mile schlepp, from the subway stop in the cold, with sixteen bottles of wine in hand.  “Come in, sit down.  You want something hot?  You must be cold.  Have some boiled water.”  I recalled that the last time I ordered from this group a hapless young lady had similarly schlepped here with a case of wine from the subway station to my door. 

Three of the whites turned out to be reds; same vintner, wrong appellation. Stuff happens.  He promised to get me the whites early tomorrow.  No one was due for Thanksgiving till at least 4:00PM tomorrow.  “You sure you can be here before then?  OK.”  We drove him back to the subway station.  He was grateful.  I noticed he was till shivering.  “No, really.  I mean it.  You keep the change.  See you tomorrow, before 4:00PM.”