Jeff locked the keys in the Corolla. We stopped at Wawa to use the facilities and while I searched for the magazine stands, and perhaps the Sunday Washington Post whose contents include the coveted Style section, I ran into a distressed Jeff.
“Where’s Lori?” he exclaimed with authority and little interrogative inflection while darting his eyes.
“She’s in the bathroom – what’s your deal?” responded Kent with concern after taking in his brother’s worry wrinkles.
A beat.
“Jeff?”
A beat.
“Jeff – just tell me!”
Pause. “I locked the keys in the car.”
And there we were. Wawa staffers are not prepped for such emergencies and neither was the laud-o-mat next door. I did forage and bring back a half-hanger. (You know those kind that have the cardboard rod connecting the wires? What’s with that anyway? Oh right – for pants so they don’t get that fold crease.) I also trekked across the busy highway in search of either a cop or a mechanic that may have been happening by. Honda dealership directly across the way? Closed on Sundays.
I returned with my half-hanger half-cardboard tool. I’m sure you realizes how that sorted out.
$40 monies later, 15 minutes, and a green-bow-adorned-flat-wearing-glasses-sporting-tween locksmith with a balloon-wire-contraption later and we set back on the journey to Corolla, NC.
God help us. And save this queen.
Please note the flats and Jeff’s non-use of sun protection eye wear – although dutifully resting atop his cabeza – despite the blistering sun in which we found ourselves during the unexpected Wawa parking lot visit.
No comments:
Post a Comment