When last we talked, I told you all about the process of ordering a pair of small group tables for Twin Hills School. When we left off, my tables had been packed up into one large box*, had left the factory in Texas with Freight Company A, and were chugging their way towards Southwestern Alaska.

At first, there was no guesswork whatsoever. Freight company A picked up my tables somewhere in Texas and sent me a tracking number so that I could follow their progress. I wrote “our tables are about right here” on an index card and pinned it to our giant wall map. Every day I checked the status; some days I got to move the pin, on others there was no evidence of progress. The map-crazy fourth grader was hooked, and the others started to get excited too.

After a few days, the box reached Seattle and was transferred to Freight Company B. Companies A and B were evidently buddies, because I could continue tracking the box’s progress on the same website. This was all very modern and convenient until the box reached Anchorage. When I got the news that the box had arrived in Alaska, I knew from my years of bush experience that I needed to call them up and be a squeaky wheel. Otherwise, who knew what they might do with that box?

The woman from Company B was very kind and helpful, and explained that the box would soon be departing for Dillingham. I had known all along, even though I had tried to pretend otherwise, that the original shipper would consider the box to have been “delivered” once it reached Dillingham, and after that it would likely be up to me to get it from Dillingham to Twin Hills. The only carrier I knew of that would take it from Dillingham to Twin Hills, herein known as Local Airline, has a long history of doing whatever they want, so I thought I should check. I called up Company B and asked how my package would be travelling from Anchorage to Twin Hills. The nice lady who answered the phone said they would give it to Company C, who would in turn carry it to Dillingham where they would turn it over to Local Airline.

My spidey sense began buzzing. I asked the lady to give me the dimensions of the box, which she willingly did. I then quickly called Local Airline and asked if they could accommodate this box, and was as quickly told that no, they could not. The box would not fit through the door of their largest aircraft.

In a panic, lest my box be already heading to Dillingham where it would essentially be stranded, I called Company B back and explained the situation. The lady who answered told me that they either already had, or were about to (depending on whether their tracking software had been properly updated), send the box to Company C. I obtained Company C’s number and called, hoping anxiously that they had not already shipped it.

When I got hold of Company C, the nice lady who answered told me that they had my box, and assured me that they could ship it all the way to Twin Hills. I was puzzled—had I perhaps seen this airline’s planes in Twin Hills? Or was that a little dream I had?—but thought that sounded like a good idea. One hop from Anchorage to Twin Hills! So free from potential hassle! Soothed by this opiate-like information, I was about to end the phone call when the nice lady just so happened to mention that they would (of course) be taking the box to Dillingham and turning it over to Local Airline for the remainder of the journey. How could I, even for a minute, have allowed myself to believe otherwise?

Again in a panic, I beseeched her not to let the box leave Anchorage, explaining that Local Airline could not take it. She checked my information and confirmed that, indeed, the box was too big to fit on a Local Airline plane. She pinky-promised that they would keep the box in their warehouse until I found a solution. Certainly I trusted her, but what about the other employees, who may or may not have gotten the memo?