Sunday, July 23, 2006
Keys
My car, featured in this file photograph, has been giving me grief lately. actually, it is not the car, but car keys in general. . Please allow me, dear reader, to update you on some humdrum happenings of late. Friday night I met up with my friend Fernando at an Indie rock show, featuring Linus. After the show ends at approximately 1am, I say my goodbyes to Fernando only to pull out my keys and realize that my car key is missing. it is not on my keychain. I race out to where my car is parked and thankfully it's still there. Yet, the key remains gone. Pockets, bathroom, curb, Security, bartender, strangers--I ask and look everywhere. At one point, an older woman grabs the flash light I had borrowed from Vic the nice security guy and asks what I'm doing. annoyed, i tell her tersely. She asks: "Do you wish to consult the oracle?" I guess I should have, because after an hour of looking, I still couldn't find them. Fernando is true blue because he stayed with me until the tow truck came to pick me up. $140 later, we are in Kailua. Several days and a car rental later, i am able to pick my keys up from the dealership. BMW, even back in 1996 had fancy keys that have a computer chip in them. so the keys were $50 each.
So my new friend Margaret--who is old friends with wendy--makes fun of me constantly last weekend, and though she requests I drive, will not let me handle the keys. Sunday we got to the north shore to snorkel at Shark's cove. After finishing a mediocre poke lunch, we set on the beach. She disagrees that i should put her keys in my shoes, so i suggest burying them. "It's okay," I say to her objections. "I'll put my shoes on top of them." Spirits were high as we finished snorkeling and began discussing dinner options; we were set on mexican. As we picked up our things and walked toward the shower...I realized i forgot to pick up the key. Now, there is no one else on the sand, to give us a reference point. I will spare you the details of not-so-helpful nine year olds incessantly asking me why i buried the keys, and simply tell you that 1.5 hours and two firefighters later, we found'em. with about 15 minutes of sunlight to go.
So my new friend Margaret--who is old friends with wendy--makes fun of me constantly last weekend, and though she requests I drive, will not let me handle the keys. Sunday we got to the north shore to snorkel at Shark's cove. After finishing a mediocre poke lunch, we set on the beach. She disagrees that i should put her keys in my shoes, so i suggest burying them. "It's okay," I say to her objections. "I'll put my shoes on top of them." Spirits were high as we finished snorkeling and began discussing dinner options; we were set on mexican. As we picked up our things and walked toward the shower...I realized i forgot to pick up the key. Now, there is no one else on the sand, to give us a reference point. I will spare you the details of not-so-helpful nine year olds incessantly asking me why i buried the keys, and simply tell you that 1.5 hours and two firefighters later, we found'em. with about 15 minutes of sunlight to go.


