So I feel
pretty good today, and I figure that I'll go to
McDonald's and
see if I can get some more
gift certificates or something. I make the two
minute drive over and pull into a spot. I turn the
radio off, put the
car
in park, put the
parking brake on...and then get out of the car and
lock
the door, with my
key still in the
ignition. With the car STILL ON.
Cue
the violent screaming.
I try to open the car with other keys I've got on me and check if one of
the doors is
unlocked, but
nothing works. So I
jog back to the
office and
start
freaking out. When my car broke down last
summer on the way to work
(not my fault, that one), I took it to a
car repair shop right next to my
office. The guy there seemed pretty nice, so I ran over to see if he
could help me out. He said he could lend me a "
slim jim", the thing you
slide into the
door to try to get the door to unlock, but if the car
doesn't have
power locks (which my
Stone Age Oldsmobile does not) it's
excruciatingly difficult to open. So, I walked back to the office and
went to the
plan of last resort... I called my
mother at work.
To say she was
unhappy would be calling the
Sahara Desert a little
parched. To say she was upset would be calling
Siberia a tad bit
chilly.
I spent the next 45 minutes waiting outside the building for her to get
there, then 5 minutes of extreme
wrath as we're driving back to McDonald's.
I get out, use the
spare set of keys to open my car up, and hand the
spares back to my mother. She
sped off without saying another
word, and
is probably planning my
ritual demise as I type this.
I am never, ever, EVER going to that McDonald's again, and I may just
start skipping my lunch break
altogether. Who the
FUCK did I
piss off to
deserve this??
See:
RimRod Goes to McDonald's (Part 1)
RimRod Returns to McDonald's (Part 2)
RimRod Loses the McDonald's Curse (Part 4)