The Car Keys: One Embarrassing Moment

Tags

embarrassing moments, humour, memories

Fall 1992. On a college campus. A young girl in a purple top off her shoulders, and a purple miniskirt, drops her backpack on the driver seat of her silver car and shuts the door. Suddenly, the smile fades from her fresh face. She has just realized that she has locked her car keys in the car…and her spare set of car keys in her backpack…are also in the car. What was supposed to be a relaxing Friday afternoon watching some of her classmates play a friendly game of baseball has turned into another adventure. What should she do?

I was that girl…and this is just one my most embarrassing moments (and there have been hundreds). Oh, not the moment above, but how the story ended.

My parents were at least half an hour away, assuming I could reach them at home. I’m pretty sure my Dad was at work that day. I was in first year so I hadn’t made friends, and I didn’t really know anyone in the city. I borrowed a quarter from another girl and called the only person I could think of at the time – my ex-boyfriend. It had been close to a year since he absolutely broke my heart. One week he was talking about getting married in a few years’ time, and the next week he was breaking up with me. To this day, I still don’t know what happened. There was a strong possibility that we would get back together after my 18th birthday, and when he came to see me at work one afternoon in August, I was horrified to find out that he did want to date, but not exclusively. I was still very much “head over heels” and wanted more…so, to his disappointment, I said “no”. To say the phone call was awkward is an understatement, but I was a damsel in distress.

So I called him and told him what had happened and where I was parked. He agreed to meet me in the parking lot in half an hour. It was an awkward meeting and he was in a hurry to get to class. He started with fiddling with the driver door handle and examining the windows…it was then that I noticed….the passenger door was unlocked. It had been unlocked the whole time. I was so embarrassed, and He assumed it was a “ploy” and never spoke to me again.

I have only locked my keys in the car once since this unfortunate incident, and it wasn’t my fault. I set my purse on the driver seat to take off my sweater, and Big Guy, always the gentleman, closed the door for me. Fortunately we had been following my brother on the highway and he had stopped for gas, so I caught him and borrowed a quarter and the phone number for roadside assistance. I always check to see where my car keys are before I close the door. Big Guy has yet to learn that lesson…(sorry – I had to shift the bwa ha ha from me to someone else!)

Happy Weekend!

The Champion (or Why I No Longer Take Bubble Baths)

Tags

bubble baths, embarrassing moments, family, home, humour, music

Last month, MommyVerbs wrote about the joy of time alone when there are kiddies in the house, even if it means seeking sanctuary in the bathroom. I had to agree with all that she said, with one exception…and this is why I no longer take bubble baths!

Flashback to 2007, Saturday night, 9:00 p.m. Big Guy was holed up in his room in the basement, playing on his Xbox. Hubby was watching T.V. in the living room. Little Guy was asleep in his bedroom. And I was looking forward to a rare indulgence – slipping into a piping hot bathtub with fruit-smelling bubbles, and stewing uninterrupted for a long time with a good book! Part of the reason that it was so rare was not just that I had a 2 year old clinging to me every hour of the day, but two months after this Little Guy arrived, I hurt my back (plus I was still years from identifying my arthritis/rheumatic-whatever). My mobility and my ability to do basic tasks were severely impaired, and I was in constant pain. I spent copious amounts of time on the couch holding a baby, with everything I might need on the side table next to me. I would mentally prepare myself, then grit my teeth every time I had to walk across a room, praying I didn’t have a spasm that would cause me to drop whatever I was carrying and scream. I felt like a drug addict, glancing at the clock every few minutes, willing time to pass faster so I could take my next round of over the counter pain killers. The future for that girl in her early 30’s seemed pretty grim! And a bubble bath that night seemed pretty wonderful.

So there I was, luxuriating in a steamy bathtub, reading my book, enjoying the ambiance. It was almost time to run the tap and warm it up again, when something in my back seized up…and there I was! An unmoving, freezing, naked damsel in distress. The “stuff” of fairy tales, really!

I start to mentally run through my options:

1) Roll over and get up: How many beached whales have you seen roll over? Stabbing pain – not a chance! And what if I did manage to roll over? What were the odds that I would get stuck there and drown in my Satsuma bubbles? What a waste of Satsuma bubbles!

2) Yell for help: What are the chances that anyone would hear me? I’m pretty sure the only person who might possibly hear me was the clingy, sleeping 2 year old, and how would he alert “Daddy” to my inevitable demise.

3) Wait for someone to come to the rescue: That could be a long wait…since the expectation is that I not be disturbed. It could be hours. I could die of exposure. Wait! There’s only one bathroom in the house…eventually someone will need to pee…but that could still be hours. And what mother wants her teenager to make the grisly discovering of a naked prune in the tub?

4) Use my toes to pull the plug: Maybe someone would hear the tub draining and wonder why I didn’t leave the bathroom in a timely manner? Or they would wonder how I died of hypothermia….

5) Throw things to get someone’s attention: What are the chances anyone would hear me, or I would wake Little Guy? Besides, all I have close by is my book and a bottle of shampoo. Two thumps isn’t enough to bestir my shining knights!

6) The phone: I had placed the cordless phone on the edge of the tub. If I could do an incredible yoga post with my arm, I might be able to reach it. I could call my friend, and ask her to call our house. If Hubby didn’t answer, she could relay a message on the answering machine…which Hubby could hear in the living room…if the T.V. wasn’t too loud. She could tell Hubby that I was trapped in the tub and needed help getting out. Humiliating, but she would understand, wouldn’t she?

As I weighed my options, I could feel mental faculties beginning to fade, and I knew I had to make a decision quickly. I had too much to live for! I decided to make one more valiant attempt to get out myself. I had given birth to two babies with no painkillers (one was breech, and what the h*%# was I thinking?); if I could do that, I could do this. I was going to see them grow up, get married, and have babies of their own! I started by choosing a song to inspire me – Queen. We are the Champions! I took a couple of deep breaths and this “fat bottomed girl” rolled over! I climbed out of that slimy pit…and I vowed that I would never take a bubble bath in my 1960 sea foam green tub again! Let the music swell…I was weak from hunger and exhaustion, but I was a Champion, my friends, and I kept on fighting till the end!

Now I take long, hot steamy (usually uninterrupted) showers instead…