by Maureen Mancini Amaturo

The tracking details for everything I buy on line are both a blessing and a baffle. With each movement timed, noted, scanned, clocked, and documented, I should know exactly when to open the door for the UPS man. But no. When it comes to expected deliveries, I’m as lost as my packages.  

With the predictable unpredictability, DraftKings® should add a track packages betting option. “Fifty bucks on Tuesday. A hundred says it gets there before 3 pm.” No matter what the tracking details say, it’s really anyone’s guess. One of my Amazon packages arrived before it was shipped. I was using the item, but according to tracking details, a shipping label was still being created. At least it got to my house and didn’t put down roots in York, PA.

I’ve never been to York, PA, but all of my packages have. Many of my shipments stay there for weeks. Some never leave! Just this morning, a friend was checking on one of his orders. “Tracking shows I was supposed to get this delivery yesterday,” he said, “but according to the shipping details, it’s stuck and hasn’t moved.”

“Is it in Pennsylvania?” I asked.

He looked surprised. “Yes.”

“It must be in York.” 

He scrolled back to his tracking details. “It is.” 

I shrugged. “Everything is in York, PA.” 

York must be a fabulous place. I wonder if it’s as wonderful there for people as it is for packages.

After spending weeks stalking my online orders hoping to see any kind of movement in the tracking details, I became more than curious about this magnetic place called York, PA. What could it have that Manhattan or Los Angeles doesn’t? One of my nomad shipments actually high-tailed it out of Las Vegas — couldn’t wait to leave a place like Vegas — and went straight to York, PA. Las Vegas, voted the most fun city in America, and still, my package preferred York. That was on November 16. Today is January 12, and according to the tracking details, it’s still there. 

As befuddled as I am about why shipments arrive and depart and arrive at the same location so many times in one day, I’m more curious about this anonymous shipping partner. Must be someone with strong financial footing because this partner has a facility, a whole facility. Does the shipping partner live in York, PA? Is the shipping partner guiding all packages to this Pennsylvania parcel haven? Who is this York, PA, shipping mogul controlling these en route packages? Santa, maybe. Jimmy Hoffa? The buyer for Bed, Bath & Beyond (formerly known as Overstock)? If packages are not at this shipping partner facility, then the York, Pennsylvania UPS, USPS, and FedEx hangers must be padded with velvet, gold, or catnip. I had to see for myself, and I had to do it before the next holiday onslaught of online shopping. 

One crisp, sunny, almost-spring day, I took a road trip for a showdown with York, PA. Ready to confront the whole town — warehouses, postal system, and all — and demand all my packages. Ready to scour every storage unit, shed, and silo, I was determined to find the baby’s-first-Christmas ornament I ordered for my granddaughter, who is now three. The books I ordered for my husband’s birthday last year. The Nutri-Bullet blender my daughter wanted when she first moved into her apartment, two apartments ago. York, the birthplace of the Articles of Confederation, is the resting place of the articles ordered from Amazon, eBay, Etsy, etc. And I aimed to find out why. If it meant outing the shipping partner, I was there for it. 

How my packages find York so easily puzzles me. I was lost for at least an hour. (I don’t carry a cell phone, and my car does not have GPS.) After visiting three gas stations for directions, I hoped I was on the right road. When I saw an Amazon box on the shoulder, a large padded envelope in the center lane, and bubble wrap in a bush, I figured this must be the way. I followed the packaging until I saw “Welcome to York. Twin city of Arles, France.” Ahh, things were starting to make sense. Arles, good enough for Vincent van Gogh, good enough for my packages. 

As I neared the town center, I saw as many UPS stores as Starbucks. Just a few miles before I reached my hotel, I spotted the largest Staples I had ever seen. It looked like its own city within this twin city to Arles, and since I was focused more on the enormity of that store than the road, I ran over a corrugated carton on the highway. It was empty, I think.

While exploring York, PA, I passed a mall marquis that read “York Galleria”. It looked abandoned. There was an eerily grey Walmart on the outskirts of town, a small storefront compared to that mega Staples. Other than that ghostly Walmart, the only retail stores dotting Arles’ twin were restaurants, banks, two post offices, an Amazon Prime pick-up center, and several UPS stores. Traffic was light. The day was sunny. The streets were buzzing with pedestrians. I parked and went for a coffee to get a better feel for the place.

Such friendly people. Everyone smiling and waving and nodding a good afternoon. Most passersby were carrying packages that looked to have been just picked up or on their way to being mailed. No one seemed in a hurry. And the coffee in this small café — which had a small shipping center and postage machine in the corner — was delicious. What a glorious afternoon. No wonder packages like York, PA. I was beginning to like it there myself.  

I returned to that same café for breakfast. Many of the same faces from the day before were there, too. A talkative young woman, new in town herself, gave me the card of her real estate agent — whose office happened to be located in the back room of the Amazon pick-up center two blocks away.

I bought a house in York, PA. As soon as I was settled, I ordered things. I spent a whole morning shopping on line for touches to make my new house in the Arles of America feel like home. I felt so relieved knowing that when my deliveries got there, I’d be there, too, and I wouldn’t have to track anything. But I was wrong.

All six shipments I expected were way past their delivery date, and when I checked the tracking info, I saw they were stuck in Egg Harbor, NJ. Funny, very funny, anonymous shipping partner.