A real life propane tank odyssey

Published 6:00 am Wednesday, December 20, 2006

You may have heard there was a big windstorm last week. Published reports indicate there were 1.2 million people out of power around Puget Sound, including just about everyone on Whidbey Island.

I know this, not because The Record has reported the story with great attention to detail, but rather due to my frantic search for a lousy bottle or two of propane.

You know, the little green guys — 16.4 ounces, 465 grams, 1.02 pounds, whatever — that stores stock in great abundance this time of year in case someone wants to go on a picnic.

My wife and I live in a tiny enclave called Cottage Glen near Scatchet Head.

Long-time residents say with authority that when the wind blows or the snow falls or a robin lands on a transmission line, the power goes out and our little corner of the world becomes very cold, very fast.

“First out, last back on,” I was told more than once.

As we lacked the foresight to buy a generator, don’t have a fireplace and are deathly afraid of kerosene heaters — have you ever read the safety precautions for those suckers? — we rely on a little propane-fired grill to heat water for soup and that most essential of basic needs, coffee.

During the last outage two weeks ago, my wife was ready to party.

“It’ll be just like going camping,” she said excitedly, completely ignoring the fact my personal camping preference revolves around room service at a fine hostelry.

We made it through, but used up all our propane.

So Saturday we began our odyssey to find a couple bottles of the precious stuff. We began at the Pay-Less in Freeland.

“Sorry, we had 240 cases but ran out five minutes ago,” I was told.

The same was true at Cenex, Ace Hardware, several gas stations and a latté stand.

Frustrated, we headed to lunch at the Freeland Café but it was packed. So we stopped at a place up the street.

Hey, I’m all for free enterprise, but give me a break — a bowl of soup, sandwiches and coffee for two set us back $27.

Back on the road, we checked out the Red Apple, Lumberman’s and every other place to no avail. All I had to do was hold my hands in the vertical position about 12 inches apart and salespeople knew exactly what I wanted and what to say: “Sorry, we just sold the last bottle. Have you tried Ace?”

My wife suggested it was time for Plan B. So we took the ferry to Everett and began another search before giving up and checking into a fine hostelry on Broadway.

OK, I exaggerate but it had heat, hot water and TV.

And something else — visitors.

Just after midnight, a salty-looking dude with a scar down his cheek and a young (and I’m talking really young here) “lady” in a teal blue mini-skirt knocked on the door.

“Hey, we here,” the fellow said with a thick accent. Or maybe it was the tobacco wad stuck in his cheek, it’s hard to say.

“Uh, can I help you,” I replied with all the dignity I could muster in my frayed Langley souvenir T-shirt and sweat pants.

Squinting at me through the frost from his breath he realized perhaps he had the wrong room.

“Never mind.”

I explained to my wife they were Salvation Army volunteers in search of a donation.

“Really? That’s great, those people work hard,” she said, sleepily.

The next day, after hitting another 32 potential propane suppliers we found, and bought, a Safeway store’s last three bottles.

Back home, we heated water, ate noodles from a plastic cup and snuggled under the covers warmed by a hot water bottle.

The hard-working crews from Puget Sound Energy eventually discovered our little neighborhood on Monday and power came back at 1:24 p.m., so once more life is good.

Until the next time.

Jeff VanDerford can be reached at jvanderford@southwhidbeyrecord.com.