Car Start

If you want to know one of the worst feelings you can ever have as a normal, western, middle class individual without threat to life or limb, walk to your car in a parking garage. This must be night, preferably a few hours after leaving the car unattended at a ground level in a city you have, at most, a vague familiarity with to get full effect. When approaching the car, do so with just the slightest bit of unease that you have of whatever crime you chose.

Death, robbery and rape would probably be up there, but feel free to get creative.

Ok, so here you are, alone, in a quasi-strange environment, unnerved by the thought of Bruno the disgruntled cab driver stalking the street-accessible concrete maze you’re in. Now take a deep breath and re assure yourself that it’s just a hundred more yards to your car (meters if you’re so Euro-trash inclined).

Reach in your pocket to get the keys to your respectable vehicle. The ones with the nice panic button on them if Bruno just happens to make a mad dash.

In the next sixty seconds.

From that shadow-cloaked corner on the far side of the lot.

Now as your hand reaches into the pockets of your Gap/Old Navy/Banana Republic brand jeans/kakis/cargos you can almost feel the keychain with the plastic still warm from being pressed against your leg for hours.

But you don’t.

You check the other pocket and you’re met with the same, acute lack-of-key feeling.

Now, you stand in place and begin to sort through the crap in your jeans/kakis/cargos. Receipts, wallet, gum, lose change, this part will vary from person to person depending on the amount of crap you have in that 5x7x2 space on each leg.

For some, this is a very long time. This is not just the receipts, gum and loose change, but headphones, Listerine Breath Strips, Altoid Breath Strips, a few one dollar bills, an old movie stub and a metal object that’s the size of a coin and kinda horseshoe like, origin unknown.

Right at this point that dark corner seems a lot closer.

You begin to wonder if, perhaps, Bruno was his high school’s track star before he caught hepatitis and devoted his life to learning to stand still in shadows.

Now with the wisdom of an old sage you think, “I’ll check the ground.”, because of course if you’ve lost the keys, it must have, of occurred, in the last fifty feet.

No?

Hmm…

God forbid the last four hours of walking could have produced a key dropping that was outside of this immediate area, you decide to approach the car anyways.

Partly because you may have dropped them in the first fifty feet leaving the car.

Partly because you may be able to out bluff Bruno by pretending you found the keys.

Not near the car?

Hmm…

Feel that panic? Yea, that’s living life on the edge there.

After another time backtracking to as far as you choose, you’ll the receipt stuck under the windshield wiper. Written on the back is:

You left your keys in the door. L

The toll both in front is holding them.

As you walk to the other side of the lot, you scan over the items. Anyone would, so don’t try to lie and deny it. You want to know if the person that is now entrusted with your keys is a strict vegan, purchases bulk wart remover medication or is a raging alcoholic. It just so happen that this person has bought 4 pounds of GldnHrvst Apples [Bulk] at 2.99/lb.

You pick up the keys with a bit of a blushed cheek and thank the middle aged woman. You don’t say what exactly the thank you was for,

(not stealing my car)

but you thanked her for it anyway and jog back to the confines of the Carrola/Jetta/Accord.