Sit back relax and
enjoy this story that not only demonstrates my questionable judgment but
absence of marbles and incredible luck.
It's a regular
Wednesday. 80 degrees and beautiful in
Seattle. I'm wearing a favorite outfit,
hair done, make up dramatic and sultry and the compliments and flowing like the
Nile in monsoon season. I'm totally
digging it. I'm unstoppable.
I had received an
email from a former co-worker early Wednesday morning who I REALLY wanted to
make the effort to spend time with. It
had been a while since we had hung out and I REALLY enjoy spending time with
him. (Maybe too much but that's a whole
different issue).
The problem was is
that I had my aesthetician appointment at 4:00 pm, in downtown Seattle and
foolishly thought I could make it somewhere by 6:00 pm.
At 3:30 I go to my
appointment, RUN the mile back to the office to pick up my things, race out the
door to haul my ass up Queen Anne.
Half way up the hill
a truck pulled over and a kind grandfatherly figure asked for directions . He was hopelessly lost and would never get to
his destination without assistance. So
in a moment of questionable judgment I offered to navigate him there and hopped
into a stranger's car. He turns out to
be a cab dispatcher for Bainbridge
island so while we are navigating our way up to his destination he is also
dispatching calls on Bainbridge Island. Trust me, I regularly asked myself,
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"
I guided him to his
location which happened to be on the OTHER side of Queen Anne at which point I
hopped out and walked UP the back side of Queen Anne. He was very kind an appreciative which was
noted and appreciated. But, the clock is ticking, I am sweating profusely
from the run up the hill and the general warmness of the day. I get to my door and go pull out my keys.
Keys…keys…keys…(commence body pat down) WHERE
THE EFF ARE MY EFFING KEYS! EFFF!
Then it dawns on
me….those super helpful keys that get me into my apartment and start my car are
in my blazer pocket draped gracefully over the back seat of my chair... at the
office.
I am no longer unstoppable. In fact, I'm very stoppable. Right in my tracks standing outside my apartment with my locked car parked just across the street. Commence freak
out.
I call 4 co-workers
and the landlord with no avail. With no
further options, I start walking BACK to work.
I opted to take a longer but higher traffic road in the hopes luck would befall
me and a bus or cab would cross my path, thus reducing my travel time to
minutes instead of an hour.
Alas! A struck of
luck. The inner/former New Yorker hailed
an empty cab like a pro and hopped in. I
begged for him to wait for me at the building because the odds of me getting that lucky again were slimmer than
none. I raced through the lobby, across
the courtyard through a very fancy reception, up the elevator, reverse order
back out the front. The cab driver so kindly waited and graciously returned me
home, with keys in hand.
Phew.
Now remember how I
really loved my outfit and had my shit put together that day. Well, a frantic 3 hours in the heat of the
day quickly undid that into a drenched, dishevled, fire engine red discolored shit show.
So, now that I'm 30 minutes late and a hot shit mess, I towel down, redo
the face and hair and change into a less heart-palpating outfit and head on
out. Bless his heart the whole time he
was calmly assuring me that it was all fine and to take my time and that there
was no rush.
After a great
evening of laughs and conversation, 10:30 pm was creeping up and that 7:30 am
meeting was creeping up real fast. I
rolled on home thinking to myself there
are lessons to be learned from this like, take time to help someone out, or
remember your keys, always or hide a spare key or something insightful and
practical. The only one that I can come
up with is to plan for the unexpected , keep your marbles as long as you can,
keep a dress to impress outfit on hand and shave...always. None of which I had.
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