On the outside, I appear to be a relatively normal guy. I am guessing that description could depend on which relative of mine with which you are having a conversation.
However, back in the day—1996, to be exact—I was involved in an incident that led me to have an interesting, albeit costly, checkered past.
I had accepted an outside gig—working with USA Hockey and their Under 17 team. They needed someone to travel to Alberta, Canada, to shoot guys in the red, white, and blue putting the biscuit into the basket. I received the call and was excited to hit the road even though it meant traveling over the holidays in December.
All of the team members had been given clothes with the USA logo imprinted on them—everything from a sport coat and turtleneck to warm wind pants. Boarding the tiny aircraft, I resembled a walking stars and stripes.
My plane left the small airport’s tarmac and flew off to the Windy City. The first leg of the trip was uneventful, as we were on schedule with no delays. But a problem reared its ugly head in the Land of Lincoln—O’Hare Airport was on the fritz. Flights were being cancelled due to the inclement weather and what wasn’t cancelled, was being delayed.
Fortunately for me, my flight was not cancelled. Unfortunately for me, my flight from Chicago to Calgary was delayed several hours.
This did not seem to be a big deal at the time.
When I finally arrived at the airport in Calgary (home of the Stampede), it was late at night. It was so late, in fact, that there was hardly anyone else milling around. All of the other passengers knew whom to meet up with and where to go. Not me. This quickly turned from “so late” into “spooky late.”
This was the quietest airport I had ever flown into in my life. There weren’t any clueless people walking five feet and then stopping in the middle of the moving sidewalk. Kids yelling and screaming for to be disciplined could not be found. There wasn’t even any humming, chanting, nor passing out of flowers for a measly buck.
Dragging a couple of carry-ons, I frantically began to search for help. At this point in my life I did not own a mobile device. Ah! A pay phone! (I told you it was back in the day). I hurriedly hauled my possessions over to Alex Graham Bell’s invention, punched in some numbers, and waited for the phone to ring. It seemed the phone rang for a full three periods before being answered by the hockey team’s head coach.
“Kraig, where are ya?”
“Coach! I’m at the Calgary airport. Is there someone here to pick me up? I don’t see anyone wearing USA clothes.”
Coach let me in on the bad news. “Well, one of our assistant coaches was at the Calgary airport an hour ago and four hours before that. We figured your plane was late, but with this blizzard, we’re not sending anyone else out to get you.”
“How do I get from the airport here in Calgary to the hotel in Innisfail?”
The distance from Calgary to Innisfail is 118 km or 74 miles. Travel time between the two destinations should be one hour and eleven minutes in good weather. Commuting at the end of December in a blizzard is not considered good weather.
“Well, just rent a car, and we will pay you back.”
This did not seem to be a big deal at the time.
“Okay,” I replied nervously.
“If you have any problems, call me back.”
“I will.” You bet your sweet power play I’m going to call back with questions.
I looked over to the car rental desks and the lights were off. Off? Oh, no. I quickly ran over to the desk and punched the bell on the counter. One…two…three…..fifteen. A rental car person who appeared to be sleeping popped out of the back room and informed me that there were no vehicles available due to the ski season. And by “no vehicles available”, he meant for all of the rental car agencies in the great white north.
“Hello, Coach? It’s Kraig. I’ve got a problem. There aren’t any rental cars available due to the ski season. Now what do I do?”
“Oh, no cars, huh? Well…just a minute.”
This did not seem to be a big deal at the time.
There was a muffled, yet animated conversation coming through the receiver. I heard, “No. I’ve already been there twice tonight and it’s awful out. I’m not going back.”
“Kraig, how about you catch a cab?”
“A cab?”
“Yeah, there has to be a cab there because it’s the airport. Just tell the cab driver to drive you to our hotel in Innisfail.”
“How will I pay the driver?”
“Tell him I will pay him when you get here.”
This did not seem to be a big deal at the time.
Slowly turning around to look at the empty rental car counter, I suddenly felt alone in the quietness of the airport terminal. It was as if someone had hit the mute button.
I walked out of the airport into below-zero cold. Snow hit my face and stung. Up ahead the precipitation began to accumulate on the sidewalk, covering the tracks of passengers who had already been picked up. I looked up and noticed a man waving to me.
“Hello! Do you need a ride?” He was standing next to a checkered cab that was calling my name.
“Yes!” I yelled. The guy laughed as he ran around, opened the trunk, and tossed in my bags.
“Hop in front.”
I climbed in, shut the door, and said a prayer of thanks. I looked over at the driver and noticed he was sporting a turban.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Michigan. Where are you from?”
He laughed and said, “My name is Ahmad, and I am from the United Arab Emirates. Where can I take you this fine and lovely night? Well, morning.”
By now, the clock had rolled over onto a new day in the life of Kraig Ehm.
“Ahmad, my name is Kraig, and I need to get to a hotel in Innisfail.”
This did not seem to be a big deal at the time.
“Innisfail!” Ahmad quickly discovered that although the meter in the cab would run for quite some time, in this weather, it was not preferred.
Oh, gosh. I figured my USA stuff would be thrown out of the cab any moment now and me right behind it.
“Yeah, it’s a long story. Flight was late out of Chicago. By the time I got here to the airport, the rental cars were long gone.”
“You could never get a rental car here at this time of year because it’s the ski season. I can take you to Innisfail, but it’s going to cost you,” Ahmad explained.
“That’s okay, the head coach is going to cover it.”
Ahmad began to explain that he had worked at GM while living in UAE but desired to move to Calgary to be close to his family. The only job he could find at the time was as a cab driver, so he took it and planned on transitioning into another line of work. However, he enjoyed driving and talking so much that he decided to keep hacking away. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Hey! Watch out!”
I looked up just in time to see a car drift over from the left to right lane and cut Ahmad off. Ahmad tapped the brakes lightly; we slid a little to the right, and then he punched the gas to straighten us out.
“Imbecile!”, he shouted.
I quickly discovered that my cabbie was well educated, fluent in four languages, and informed. We talked and talked and talked as we headed north through the blizzard.
“What brings you to Calgary?”, Ahmad asked me.
“I’m shooting video for USA Hockey in the Under 17 international tournament.”
“Oh, I love hockey. Living in Calgary means I root for the Flames and hate the Oilers, although I would be happy if either team won the Stanley Cup.”
I liked this guy.
Even though it took us nearly three hours to drive the seventy-four miles, I didn’t mind because Ahmad was great company. He was also a great driver.
Finally, as we reached my hotel in Innisfail, I was tired and hungry. Ahmad stopped the meter, and my eyes grew as large as saucers.
“$124.00 please,” Ahmad said, while sporting a huge grin.
“Let me get my bags out of the trunk. I’ll go in, get the money I owe you, then come right back out.”
“No. Bags stay here with me until you come up with $124.00.”
Really? Like I would fly all night through the dead of winter, land after midnight, take a million-mile cab ride, just so I could stiff the driver. Really?
I ran inside and located the coach.
“Kraig! Where is all your stuff?”
“The cabbie won’t let me have my bags until I pay my fare.”
“Really? Bwahahaha! How much?”
“A hundred and twenty-four bucks,” I said quietly, while slowly backing up.
“Not bad. Thought it would be more. Here—go pay the man.”
I ran back outside and paid Ahmad. We quickly said goodbye and good luck, and Ahmad drove his cab back to Calgary in the awful storm, thereby bringing an end to my checkered past.
