Monday, March 20, 2006

I knew I hated parking garages

On Saturday night M and I and a group of friends went to see the Blue Collar Comedy Tour at the Warner Theater. M and I decided to drive, and after fruitlessly searching for street parking, reluctantly decided to cough up the $12 for a garage.

After we had paid the parking fee and were just about to drive off, M asked the attendant, “What time does the garage close?” The guy said, “Are you going to a show?” We nodded. “Eh,” he said, “Come back ½ hour after the show.”

“Is he crazy? A half hour after the show?” I snorted. “That’s way early. That can’t be right.”


[Plus there was a sign saying that the garage closes one HOUR after the show]

[I BELIEVE in signs!]

Blah blah blah, went to the show, laughed a lot, went for a quick drink. Drank, said goodbye, walked back to parking garage. Arrived well within the post-show hour.

Garage is closed. Locked. CLOSED AND LOCKED.

M and I are visibly upset. Enough so that a nearby security guy asks, “Is everything ok?”

“Um, no. Our car? Is locked in there.” I pointed at the garage, which was closed and locked. (I thought about adding, “And I have a baby at home that needs me! Oh no, my precious baaaaaaaby!” Except that I was afraid he’d ask probing questions and find out it was just a dog baby, not a real one, so I kept my mouth shut.)

The security guy (who happened to have the most beautiful head of braids I’ve ever seen) ran off to see if he could find help, returning with a friend in tow. The friend told us he could get us to our car but couldn’t promise that we’d be able to get out. He took us through back entrances and rooms that we were clearly for STAFF ONLY and I briefly fantasized that I was a double agent on a mission, until I remembered that our car was trapped in the garage and I hadn’t used the bathroom in three hours.

The guy opened a final door that went into the concrete wasteland of the garage. “Good luck!” he said. And we were on our own.

We found our car. We got in the car and drove up, up, up to the gate.

Gate closed. Arm down. Garage door still CLOSED and LOCKED.

“Look! A phone number!” I pointed to the sign that said “For assistance after hours, call this number...”

We called…and called… and called. Finally assumed it was a cruel joke and gave up. Bastards. M got out of the car and started poking around. He walked over to the garage door. He heard voices, and someone banged on the door. He looked to the right and saw a large black button that said: OPEN/CLOSE.

As he walked toward the button he tripped an alarm. But it was a puny sounding alarm, and there didn’t seem to be cause for…ahem…alarm. So he pushed the button and the garage door opened.

(cue Handel’s Messiah!)

Some people rushed in. “Thank GOD!” they said, “HOW DID YOU DO THAT?”

M was humble. “I just pushed that button.”

The happy people/angels told us to get in the car and said they would lift the mechanical arm for us and push the OPEN/CLOSE button so we could get out. They did so, and we victoriously exited the garage. M jumped out. “Wait!” he called, as the garage door was closing. “We’ll wait for you guys and help you out!”

“That’s okay!” our angels called back, “We can do it!”

And the door slammed shut.

Beautiful Braids man came over to us. “Everything all right?”

M smiled. “It is now!”

“Cool, man.”

And off we went. I was never so happy to be speeding down the road in that old Toyota.

(and if any of you hear about a parking garage heist on the news and you see surveillance footage with a long-haired guy in a leather jacket and some weird blonde with a scarf wrapped around her head, pretend like you don’t know it’s us. Because it’s not us.)


Blogger His suzy said...

Liz, I swear your life sounds so fun and exciting with the way you tell everything! :) If I ever need to bust out of a parking garage, I'm calling you!

1:03 PM  
Blogger Liz said...

Thanks Suzy, but the fun is only in the telling of the story. Being trapped in a parking garage? Not so much fun. :)

1:28 PM  
Blogger Liz said...

And a plea for help-- does anyone know why Blogger would be printing Thursday, March 16,2006 for every entry I write???

2:27 PM  
Blogger Liz said...

Never mind... I took care of it.

2:42 PM  
Blogger verniciousknids said...

Where's Sydney Bristow when you need her?!

5:31 AM  
Blogger Kim said...

Did you think just afterward, "This will make a great blog post"? I do that because I'm a geek.

Glad you escaped. :)

12:17 AM  
Blogger Liz said...

I guess we're both geeks, because I said that to M on the way out. The good thing about blogging is that even the worst experiences give you something to write about. :)

12:19 PM  
Blogger Roxanne said...

I'm glad I'm not the only one who has these thoughts throughout the day. Of course when I sit down to the computer, I've usually forgotten what it was I wanted to write about. Maybe I need to keep one of those little reporter notepads with me at all times.


11:19 PM  

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