Delivery story 61 Bad Brad writes: I paid for all four years of my undergraduate studies by delivering pizzas at several different places in Lawrence, Kansas. The most unique place I worked for was a place called Gumby's Pizza. It was dirt cheap pizza (a 10-inch 1-topping delivered was $3) geared toward the poor college students that populate the town. The shifts ran from 4:00 in the evening until 4:00 in the morning. They say that NYC never sleeps, but I tell you from my personal experience, Lawrence Kansas never sleeps either. I swear, the most interesting people order pizza at 3:30 in the morning on an otherwise idle Wednesday. Who knew? In four years, I not only earned a college degree, I also put over 140,000 miles on my car. I had a pretty keen sense for where things were, and how to get to places quickly. I knew which stoplights took a long time and which ones didn't. I knew which streets tended to flow well, and which didn't. I knew which side streets had lots of stop signs, and which didn't. I knew where all the potholes were. I knew where all the speedtraps were. I felt like I had an intimate relationship with the town. It's kind of strange, but I felt like, after delivering pizza in Lawrence for four years, I understood the town on some sort of level that goes beyond mere geography. I understood who ate when, and why. I understood how much traffic there was likely to be in a certain part of town, and why. It's the kind of education you just can't get in a college classroom setting. I could probably write a book based on the four years I spent delivering pizzas. Who knows, maybe someday I will. The following are one good story and two bad stories from my delivery days, or, should I say, delivery daze... Good story: I made a delivery to a house on Kentucky Street, which is in an area notorious for having a lot of college students. All the lights were out and there was a note on the door that said, "Pizza guy - come on in." It was against company policy, but something told me to go ahead and enter, so I did. About a dozen people were sitting around a large table, completely silent, each with a shot glass in front of him/her. A single candle in the middle of the table lit the room. There was one place not taken. I quickly figured out what was going on, and I promptly took my seat. As if on cue, the guy sitting across from me lifts his shot glass, followed by every other person at the table. I lifted mine, and we all did a shot together. After that, they blew out the candle, turned on the lights, paid me (not a single word spoken) and I went on my way. There was no monetary tip, but the tip that I did get was the most memorable one I ever got. That shot of Bacardi 151 was exactly what I needed that night. Bad story: About 1:30 AM one Saturday night, I went on a delivery to a bar in North Lawrence (the bad side of town.) One of the bartenders placed the order, so I went inside, made the delivery, and had just walked out of the bar, when a guy stopped me. He was obviously drunk or high on something. First, he asked me for a ride. I explained to him that I wasn't really allowed to do that but, being the kind and naive fellow that I was, I offered to call him a cab and wait with him. This discussion went on for about a minute or so, and the guy started to get belligerent with me, so I said, "Look, man, I gotta go back to work, have a good night." Suddenly, the guy pulls a knife and is about to lunge at me with it. My adrenaline kicked in and I sprinted back to my car, got in, and took off. Actually, the memory of my getaway from that one is kind of blurry. I did realize as I was driving away that I had a large sum of other cash on me at that time. (We had been very busy that night and it was pretty late.) After that, the manager decided on a policy of no more post-midnight deliveries to North Lawrence for awhile. Another bad story: Another delivery to North Lawrence, this one in the middle of a Friday afternoon in the summer of 1993. It wasn't even raining when I left the store. It started raining when I was about halfway to the house. By the time I reached the house, it was a torrential downpour. After I made the delivery and left the house, my car wouldn't start. It wasn't hard to figure out why. I was studying civil engineering in school at the time and I quickly learned why North Lawrence was considered a "flood plain." The water level was about waist high and rising. By the time it stopped raining, water was halfway up the windows of my car. That one cost me a new battery, a new starter, new sparkplugs, a new timing belt, several new hoses, and new interior upholstery. Plus, I had to swim (literally) to the Interstate-70 turnpike toll booth a couple miles away (which was slightly higher ground) where my roommate picked me up several hours later. Needless to say, that was the end of my shift for the day. return to top