So I got a new computer, a shiny new HP desktop, to replace my 7-year-old Dell, which sounded like a car with exhaust problems and had recently decided that recognizing optical drives wasn't cool anymore. So that's good. Can't send it to work, so I send it to my home address. FedEx Ground doesn't deliver on weekends, won't leave it except with me in person, so I've got to pick it up from the FedEx warehouse after work. Where's the warehouse? Good question. The FedEx helpline gives me an address in Queens. FedEx's website can't find a facility at that address, neither can Google, but the helpline people swear it's there. Ok. The website gives an address that's only a mile away from there, so no problem. Ah, but the devil truly is in the details. This is the industrial part of queens, where public transportation is shaky at best, and I, consummate cosmopolitan, have no car. So I get off at the nearest subway stop at around 7pm, wait for a bus to take me close. 45 minutes later, no bus. It's on a 20-minute schedule, and we've seen 3 of them going the other way. Local schoolkids walk past, talking mostly about how black they are ("So black I can't see you, nigga!" "shut up! my skin's not so dark!" Morgan Freeman once said that Black History Month is a ludicrous idea because black history is part and parcel of American history and ought not be segregated. Bet they never name a city school after him.) So I walk. It's only a mile through a dark, nearly-deserted industrial area. no prob. Get to the address the FedEx helpline gave me. No facility. Surprised? Me neither. Ok, another mile, assuming Google Maps knows its stuff. No FedEx facility there either, but I follow a passing FedEx truck and find it another block down. Not too far off. 9pm by now. Hang out in the security gatehouse, watching all the FedEx workers come out and get patted down to make sure they're not stealing. Not exactly a diamond mine, but in the same vein (haha). The guard calls me a taxi, turns out to be an unmarked (presumably illegal) one. Not a huge surprise, really. $40 later I'm back at my apartment, shiny new computer in tow ('cept the speakers, which they forgot to pack). Perhaps the universe sensed that, though I had paid the money, I had not yet karmically earned my computer. To which I say, "Fine, but can I have the taxi fare back?"