I was on my way to pick up a very important client – the kind of client where you never actually talk to them, only members of their team. I had left very early so that there was no chance of being late or screwing anything up. I couldn’t screw up – this was the kind of client that had the power to end me. Possibly my family. Possibly, my long-dead ancestors. I had to be on time.
I was feeling really good about how the day was going, until it happened: a large bird, possibly a pterodactyl, relieved itself all over the hood of the car. This was no ordinary mess – this was more of a tsunami than a splatter. And it looked awful. It was a fireable mess; a “you’ll never work in this town again!” kind of mess.
Luckily, just as I was about the panic, I spotted a car wash. I looked at the time – still 45 minutes early, and I was only 5 minutes away from my destination.
“It’s all going to be fine” I declared, with the kind of confidence you rarely see outside of a circus. “It’s all going to be just fine.”
Pulling into the car wash, I notice the young attendant sitting at a desk, talking to a woman. He didn’t acknowledge me in any way as I pulled into an open bay and started through the automated sequence of water, bubbles, and mops. Just as the limo and I were being blown dry, all of the light went out around me. The large doors that led to the outside world had shut tight. The blow dryer turned off, as did the lights. The safety mechanism that hindered my doors from completing their important opening duties, however, remained fully functional.
I was locked in a car wash.
“It’s all going to be fine”, I mumbled to myself, before into tears.
I throw my head back in a frustrated howl and notice the retractable sun roof. I open the window, grab my phone, and wiggle my way onto the roof of the now clean, though functionally useless, limo.
I wander around the giant bay, looking for an exit, or an area where my phone gets reception, finding neither. What I do find, strangely, is an air horn. I look at the clock on my phone – I only have 15 minutes left.
I blow the air horn, which produces, as if by magic, a confused looking attendant, and an equally confused looking, though significantly less clothed, female companion. My fortuitous air horn has clearly interrupted something.
“Wha…what are you doing in here?” he sputters, as the girl rushes off to cover herself, and he does up his pants.
“What do you mean? I came in here to wash my car, and when I was nearly done, everything shut off. You locked me in here!”
He turned bright red and apologized profusely, and released my limo from the grasp of the rail guards.
With only minutes to spare, I was on my way to pick up my important cargo, with a lifetime supply of car wash coupons in my glove compartment.