Friday, April 11, 2014
It Starts With a Shimmey and a Shake
**this picture has nothing to do with my story, I just thought the world might need this today.
A few weeks ago I went to get coffee from Dazbog (yeah, I'm name dropping, because if you aren't drinking Dazbog you need to remedy that stat) for myself and two co-workers. I parked right in front of the store because the parking angels were in my favor, got my coffee in it's little carrier tray, and came back out to quite the predicament.
A booze delivery truck has parked right next to my car, so close that the driver, who is standing with a clipboard at the sliding door, has his butt on my car and his legs touching the running board step thing on the van.
First thought - GET YOUR BUTT OFF BEATRICE.
Second thought - there is no possible way I can get in my car with him parked there. It's a good thing I excel at confrontation.
"Um. Excuse me?" No response. "Uhhhhh. Sir. Um. Excuse me?" Nothing. "I.... I... Need to get in my car... sir." Nada. "EXCUSE ME I NEED TO GET IN MY CAR SIR!"
I don't think I have ever seen such a dramatic slow turn, eye-roll, deep sigh move in life. He looks at me for what feels like thirty seconds, releases another gut-wrenching deep sigh - "fine." He walks past me, motions with his clipboard to my car, and then folds his arms, waiting.
First thought - what is happening right now? You were the one with your stupid butt on my car and I can't possibly get in her with your stupid van right there.
Second thought - challenge accepted.
And then for good measure I say out loud, "challenge accepted." This is met with another eye-roll.
I wiggle between the two vehicles (the driver is deceptively skinny), put my coffee carrier on the roof of my car, and open the door.
The only way I can start to get in is by wiggling sideways with my arms in the air over the door. Luckily, once my butt is in the car, I have more room to maneuver.
So there I am wedged into my car, with my armpits over the door, a very irritated delivery truck driver watching with his foot tapping, and four Dazbog employees and two patrons standing behind him looking on with equal parts amusement and concern.
I look at all of them, daring them to say something about the sweaty, trapped girl in the mini cooper, completely loss my head and give them all a thumbs up and yell, "this is awesome!"
I try to pivot and grab the coffee, but it won't fit in the crack in the door in front of me, so I decide I have to bring it over my head and bring it in sideways from the back end of the car where the door is open wider.
I'm standing in my wedge with my arms over my head, holding the coffee carrier, when finally one of the observers runs forward yelling, "OH MY GOSH, THAT'S IT, LET ME HELP YOU."
"Yeah, this got away from me."
"Why didn't you just put the coffee in your car from the passenger door and then finagle yourself in?"
"I... I... I have no answer for that."
I get in, he hands me the coffee (from the passenger side, which is wide open), give the driver another thumbs up, and drive off in a cloud of shame and triumph.