My Adventure from One Week Ago

Friday night I worked late, and I left my wallet on my desk at work. So, Saturday morning, I got up "early" and drove back to retrieve it. On my way down Hesperian Boulevard, I pulled into the Wendy's parking lot to take a call from scottasf. Since I was stopped anyway, I thought, it's a lovely day, I should clean out the crap from the back seat of the car and put the top down for the rest of the drive. So I did. Even the crap in the well that the ragtop folds into, and that stuff had been there for ages, including a 2-year-old San Leandro Times, yellow and brittle. It all went into a plastic bag from Target and into the garbage can next to the Wendy's door. Proud of myself, I strolled back to the car, and the keys weren't there.

Not in the ignition. Not on the seat or the floor of the car. Not on the ground around the car. Or under the car. And not in my left front pocket, which is where they live. Not even in my right front pocket, where they visit my loose change now and then. I panicked. I spent 10 minutes ripping through the Wendy's garbage can hoping I'd let the keys fall into the gathered trash. No keys. (A note to Wendy's patrons: when you throw your drink cups in the trash, please empty the liquid onto the pavement first.)

I would have called AAA if I'd had my wallet, but I was where I was because I didn't have my wallet. I did have my phone, so I called scottasf back. "What's the number you call if you want to get AAA for help?" I asked.

"800-AAA-HELP," he replied, a little surprised by my tone. And my inability to remember that the number you call if you want AAA for help is AAA-HELP. Well...

I called AAA, and they were able to pull up my account just fine. "You have two options," said AAA agent Amy. "We could send a locksmith out, which would cost you $60, or we could have your car towed." Neither option acceptable really. "Or, maybe you have another set of keys at home?" she continued. "You could get somebody to bring them to you..." Much better idea.

I called scottasf back and explained my situation. "Could you drive by my house and pick up my spare keys? bestbear_icanbe is there, he can give them to you. Lunch at Wendy's, my treat." He was okay with that.

I was so relieved, I only then noticed how heavily I was sweating. I pulled my handkerchief out of my left rear pocket to wipe my brow. My car keys fell out.

Fortunately, scottasf was still on the line, so he didn't have to make an unnecessary trip. I was left contemplating the human capacity for screwing up. Do we do it so often, I wondered, because it feels so good when you come out the other side. I was also left contemplating the mural on the side of the hot tub place next to the Wendy's. Hourly rates, it says. Bring your own hooker, it means. It's wonderful and horrible at the same time.

My Adventure from One Week Ago

Friday night I worked late, and I left my wallet on my desk at work. So, Saturday morning, I got up "early" and drove back to retrieve it. On my way down Hesperian Boulevard, I pulled into the Wendy's parking lot to take a call from scottasf. Since I was stopped anyway, I thought, it's a lovely day, I should clean out the crap from the back seat of the car and put the top down for the rest of the drive. So I did. Even the crap in the well that the ragtop folds into, and that stuff had been there for ages, including a 2-year-old San Leandro Times, yellow and brittle. It all went into a plastic bag from Target and into the garbage can next to the Wendy's door. Proud of myself, I strolled back to the car, and the keys weren't there.

Not in the ignition. Not on the seat or the floor of the car. Not on the ground around the car. Or under the car. And not in my left front pocket, which is where they live. Not even in my right front pocket, where they visit my loose change now and then. I panicked. I spent 10 minutes ripping through the Wendy's garbage can hoping I'd let the keys fall into the gathered trash. No keys. (A note to Wendy's patrons: when you throw your drink cups in the trash, please empty the liquid onto the pavement first.)

I would have called AAA if I'd had my wallet, but I was where I was because I didn't have my wallet. I did have my phone, so I called scottasf back. "What's the number you call if you want to get AAA for help?" I asked.

"800-AAA-HELP," he replied, a little surprised by my tone. And my inability to remember that the number you call if you want AAA for help is AAA-HELP. Well...

I called AAA, and they were able to pull up my account just fine. "You have two options," said AAA agent Amy. "We could send a locksmith out, which would cost you $60, or we could have your car towed." Neither option acceptable really. "Or, maybe you have another set of keys at home?" she continued. "You could get somebody to bring them to you..." Much better idea.

I called scottasf back and explained my situation. "Could you drive by my house and pick up my spare keys? bestbear_icanbe is there, he can give them to you. Lunch at Wendy's, my treat." He was okay with that.

I was so relieved, I only then noticed how heavily I was sweating. I pulled my handkerchief out of my left rear pocket to wipe my brow. My car keys fell out.

Fortunately, scottasf was still on the line, so he didn't have to make an unnecessary trip. I was left contemplating the human capacity for screwing up. Do we do it so often, I wondered, because it feels so good when you come out the other side. I was also left contemplating the mural on the side of the hot tub place next to the Wendy's. Hourly rates, it says. Bring your own hooker, it means. It's wonderful and horrible at the same time.