My life has been a series of embarrassing events if truth be told. There was falling down bleachers and falling up stairs in high school; while I was at UT, there was an incident that involved dragging lingirie attached to my backpack all the way up The Hill to Ayers Hall for a meeting with my professor and another that involved puking in a sink and on a Tri Delt's shoe at The Lap (oooh, and an unfortunate drunken singing event at a Kappa Sig party in Chattanooga--hello, Cary!), saying Fuck Hinn while teaching 11th grade English my very first year on the job, not to mention a whole host of events inspired or instigated by my children and/or spouse. The list goes on and on and on. So, when I say this is IT, trust me, it is.
Backstory: Item 1: Every week, I meet SIL, MIL and assorted nieces and friends at McDonalds on Wed. night to do dinner before church. We hang out for an hour or two at the playground. Item 2: I started taking water aerobics at the Y and my bathing suit was waaaay too big and I needed another. Item 3: S. is my niece J.'s friend.
Okay, here we go.
I called J. and asked her if she had a bathing suit that I could borrow. She did and said she would bring it to me at McD's, so that's where we begin. We arrived at McD's and had the usual hoopla of children running, eating, talking and so on. It was chaotic as usual--as it would be with four kids 7 and under needing attention. S. has a baby, N., and J. has a little boy, J2.
I had to leave early because I had to be at the "Y", so I asked J. if she'd brought the suit--she had, but she left it in S's "truck". Since everyone was dealing with kiddos, I said I'd just go get it on my way out. What does S's truck look like? It's a green one, J. said, and right by the door.
I made my farewells and headed out, eager to hurry up and get to the "Y" and make sure the damn suit fit. I exited McD's and had to only look one parking place over and voila! There was a green truck--an SUV, actually, but I knew that S. drove an SUV, so this was not a problem. The vehicle was green--not an ugly one--and some sort of Nissan/Toyota thingamajig. All was well. I looked in the window and saw an infant carseat as well as a whole lot of other shit in the backseat. Okay, get to work.. I opened the passenger door and started to look. The smell of the vehicle nearly knocked me down--I can only describe it as "white trash", which sort of surprised me, but it was a used vehicle when S. got it, so okay, whatever. I did quickly hope that whatever I was about to borrow to wear wouldn't smell like this--cig smoke, stale air, old beer and old car mixed together. Blech. I went to the floorboard to look for a bag of some sort. There was a pile of trash, scraps and flotsam piled up in the floor and between the seats and everywhere. I was briefly startled as I looked down and saw a purse, open, in the floorboard with cigarettes right on top. WTF? Since when does J. smoke? I toyed with the idea of stealing them, but decided that it was something to just bring up in conversation later, instead. No bag in the floorboard.
I would have sworn that she said passenger side, but I also vaguely remembered, "in the back" being mentioned, so I thought maybe it was in the backseat. The vehicle was a two-door, so I had to lean over and around the passenger seat to look. No bag. Damn. I tried to flip the seat up, but I couldn't figure out how to make the lever work, so I gave up. Damn again.
As I went around the back of the vehicle, I decided that maybe she meant the WAY back, so I looked for a way to open the door/tailgate. There was a massive spare-tire rig on the back, and I couldn't see a handle anywhere, so I went on around to the driver's side and opened that door to look in the back from a better angle. I had no better luck moving this seat forward than I had the passenger's, despite my best efforts--I did manage to move the seat back straight up, but no further. There were blankets and such in the way, so I moved all of those as best I could by reaching around the front seat, stirred around a bit and still didn't see it. I smelled some weird smells, but no suit. Double damn.
This was getting old and I was about to go ask for J.'s help, when I decided to look in the back again--I peered in the windows and inspected the tire thing fom every possible angle, but never did see a handle. Damn, damn, damn.
Back to the passenger's seat. I yanked on that stupid lever again and had no luck, so I leaned over the seat and was practically lying IN the damn car. That's when I heard:
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING LOOKING IN MY CAR?"
I froze for a millisecond and then snapped my head and body around to see a very pissed off 20-something guy in scruffy clothes and dire need of a bath standing on the curb, glaring at me.
"
Your car?"
"Fuck yes,
my car. What the hell are
you doing?"
At this point, I was ready for the pavement to open and just gulp me down, but as usual, that didn't happen despite teh obvious need for such reprieve. I was left standing there, stammering like a motherfucking idiot.
"My niece...get something...she left ...me...new car...front...green truck...."
Despite the fact that I probably had a good four college degrees and a high school diploma on this guy, I was not coming across as the intelligent or educated one in this matchup. He peered at me through the passenger window because I was still standing behind the door as if it would protect me or somehow morph into S.'s car.
"She has a green truck?
"Uh-huh...think...said...yes...front door."
"Could THAT be it?"
And he pointed to a green Ford Explorer-type that was parked two spaces down from where I stood trying not to vomit in his passenger seat--after all, they had enough olofactory offenses in the car already and it would just be flat out rude for me to add to them. Besides, I'm not really a public puker--my only other experiences in that were pretty horrific and I didn't want to reply that here in my local McD's parking lot.
Through the haze of mortification, I could clearly see the greenish tint of the other vehicle glowing in the setting sun. The other green truck. I must get to it. I closed the door of the non-S. truck and began to apologize.
"I am so sorry...she said...never saw...sorry...God...mortified."
He waved me off and watched to make sure that I had left his car alone, then went back into McDonald's. I see a rather rough looking female waiting inside for him and am briefly cognizant of the fact that she probably could have and would have kicked my ass had she been the one to come outside. I am thankful that chivalry was alive and well in southern Middle Tennessee.
Somehow I stumble to the green vehicle, making my way past God-only-knows how many vehicles in the backed-up drive-through lane. I can't even process the fact that there were most likely witnesses to this unfortunate incident of total humiliation. I can only focus on the other green truck and when I am finally upon it, I carefully inspect it from the outside first, and, noting the much neater interior, various baby items, and lack of cigarette-laden handbags, tentatively opened the handle. At this point I expect alarms to ring, armed gunmen to approach or the car to self-destruct, but nothing quite that dramatic happens. Instead, I look down, see the suit (I can't even remember if it was in a bag or what at this point) grab it and make a mad dash to my van, where I damn near hyperventilate.
The suit fit, btw. Smashingly so. Thank God.
