Or, what you do when they're comin' for you A few years ago, my wife Rita was visiting her mom in Russia. Her friend Lida called me. They were planning a surprise party for Rita's birthday and might I come? It would be a secret so I was to arrive only on that specific day. The four-engine, narrow-body jet landed late at night. STRANGERINASTRANGELAND Like sheep undistinguishable from anywhere else in the world, we trudged along. Down stairs. Up stairs. Stand in line. The usual passport and customs followed by immigration is different depending where in the world people enter. I like the no-visa (i.e. Turkey) system. After the usual identification - pay an entry fee - you're in. This night I got stuck behind a whole load of air traffic controllers who were returning home after a training school. Every single one had lots of stuff. I was last. Nearly blocking the exit door were three attractive ladies waiting to greet me. Lida introduced Irina and Inna. We walked through the terminal and across the parking lot to a Toyota Mark 2 (a big, four-door sedan) backed up to the fence. Of the three ladies, only Irina had a car - but even so, they felt it was not comfortable enough. So she borrowed her husband's. "Stop, flat tire," I said as we started to move. Sure enough, the left rear was down. Irina opened the trunk and, like pearl divers, we commenced to unload the monster trunk. A five-gallon can for spare fuel. Blankets. Stuff. The jack. And the full-sized spare. SHADYDEALINGS After changing the tire, I was unable to see why she had a flat. The terminal was now empty. Shadows... Had bad guys let the air out of the tire? If I were not there (or were?) would they (we) have been accosted? Could we expect to be forced off the road and robbed? Where were the cops when you needed them? We left the terminal and drove right, for a mile, then did a U-turn and came back to the now empty parking lot. No other cars seen. OK. We then headed out. In one mile we merged on the main road. Still clear. After two more miles we pulled up between a pair of cops doing traffic stops. The usual. Except each had an AK-47. Irina got out and discussed our experiences. The ladies were afraid for our safety. Might they get the cops to escort us the 20 miles to the city? Long discussions. The watch commander and another cop joined in. One cop suggested some kisses might help? Lida laughed and said there were four of you and one of her so forget it. All laughed. The cops didn't have enough gas. And, if they did - they would miss their dinner. And, what would city cops think if they saw county cops in town? The bargaining continued. It did not hurt to know Irina's husband was an important city official. A deal was struck. A police car, lights out, stopped behind us. As the clock moved into the new day, we headed into town. Armed escort behind. That's one dark highway. And darn little traffic! In the city we pulled into the "U" driveway of my wife's mom's place. The cop, lights out, behind. A couple of kids in a car nearby decided to go somewhere else. Knock, knock. Wait. Wow! Happy Birthday! After a while we five piled into the Mark 2 and drove to a hotel Lida had arranged. The cop shadowed quietly - waiting, lights off, while events came together. Irina dropped off the other two ladies and went home. She then gave the cop the agreed on $100 for escorting us that night. Equal Access The Utah Public Commission let me delay conversion to (FGD) Equal Access until the end of this year. As you read this I'll have five exchanges done - having burned a mil getting there. Our customers hate it. So do the carriers, who think we're a CLEC and so they won't take our customers for their toll. Those that do (including AT&T and Worldcom) have been disconnecting them after a week saying they won't provide toll - period. I set up an 800 number for our subs to complain direct to Peggy Egbert, the PSC engineer who tries to help. She wonders why we can't just continue to provide toll using the Feature Group C facilities and network terminations like we used to? Copyright 2002 by A. W. Brothers and Americas Network magazine. All rights reserved.   © Beehive Telephone Co.