So, you may have noticed that I’ve been slacking on the awesome recently. I mean…I shared an e-mail from my boyfriend, a ridiculous picture of myself, and a ranty rant about dress codes last week. I was beginning to think that I was losing my touch.
But then…Like magic…All of a sudden out of nowhere I have 15 new stories to tell you. But today I will only tell you one. Because I have to save some of this goodness for a rainy day. Or a brain block day. Or a writer’s block day. Or my memoirs. One of those.
So today I’m going to tell you about last night’s adventure.
I met up with a girlfriend of mine for dinner after work. We had a general location in mind, but not an actual restaurant. We were off to Rosemont (a mere blocks away from O’Hare, where I briefly daydreamed of jumping on a plane to New Orleans.) I arrived with the intentions of finding a place for us to dine, and then I would tell her where to meet me. Really, guys, this SEEMED like a logical plan. Considering I didn’t know the area all that well and everything in the area on Yelp seemed super pricy.
Finally, I made my way to an area I used to sort of know a little bit. There was a movie theater and a parking garage the last time I was there, but now it’s full of restaurants and such. Fab! I thought. We’ll eat at one of these places. So I pulled into the parking garage without a second thought.
Until I got to the second level. $13? That’s fucking crazy. But there were 3 lanes. One didn’t have a ticket dispenser. So I followed that one to the third level. Where I was met with a ticket dispenser. $13? Fuck that shit. Fuck that a lot.™
Except that there was a sign that read, “No refunds.”
So what’s a girl to do when she’s on the 3rd level of a very coned off area of a parking garage?
Back the fuck up.
Literally. I backed up. All the way down around the corner to the second level. Then I inched my way toward the original ramp…the one lane, steep-as-shit, one way ramp.
And some cars starting to come up, so I pulled forward a bit to let them through.
When it looked all clear, I thought…OK. Let’s do this thing. And I started backing down slowly on the ramp. Until a car starting pulling up. SHIT! I put the car back into drive and maneuvered my way back up to the second level. I pulled far enough out of the way to let the guy through, but he must have seen my distressed look, so he rolled down his window to get my attention.
And I looked over and this teenage boy, who couldn’t have been more than 19 looks at me with pity and asks if I need help. I told him my dilemma (not that I had backed down from the 3rd level though. That shit was embarrassing) and he said that I just needed to take a ticket and pull through to the exit. What the what? Really? Why didn’t I think of that? And then he told me to double check with the guy in charge by pushing the…wait for it…HELP button.
After following both sets of instructions and confirming that I wouldn’t get charged by the annoyed parking garage guy who answered my call for help…I made my way safely out of the parking lot and into a free parking space.
And for the record, guys, my pal had equally as much difficulty getting to the restaurant…As she past the correct exit, got off the interstate too far north, and kept driving north until I asked her whether the sun was on her left or right and then insisted she turn around immediately.
But we had a delightful meal and a really cool Irish pub. And then I almost accidentally went back into the parking garage. I swear I’m not a complete flake. Usually.
Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!