Sometimes, things just give me the winning face for days and days. This is such a time:
So as most of you know, I work for a PR agency and our bread and butter is getting coverage of our clients. Luckily, we are good at this, so can afford bakery bread and real butter. Er...anyway, when we get a sizable hit in a newspaper or magazine, we pick up a few extra copies to send to our clients, as well as one to archive for our own sense of satisfaction. Usually, we have the extra copies mailed to us, but from time to time we get a tight deadline so we go pick them up from the various publishers. For this reason, I had to go pick up some papers from the Deseret News offices which are (of course) in the BACK OF BEYOND, West Valley. The only things that go further west are Italian suits in late model sedans with empty guns and full trunks headed to the West Desert. Seriously.
Anyway, as I was heading back to civilization (with the wheels on my car going round and round, round and round, round and round) I realized I was almost out of gas (again) and so I stopped at a Maverick. I bought a car wash with my gas because my car was nasty with salt; only the car wash wouldn't work when I tried it, so I went inside to get a refund.
And that's when I locked my keys in the car.
Luckily I had my cell phone and wallet with me, so I called AAA. They said they would be at least 45 minutes (since I was SOOOOO far out in the middle of nowhere.) So I settled down to wait.
After a few minutes, the cashier of the gas station came out of the back with a wire hangar to try to jimmy the lock just to pass the time as we were waiting, but that didn't work.
So a nice old man with his twenty-something girlfriend came with some sort of wire thing and tried for about half an hour with no luck.
Then two nice young men named Jose and Manuel tried with their SWITCH BLADES. Nope.
Enter Jamal and his cousin with a hangar and a screwdriver and really loud East Coast Rap. No dice.
Finally, Leon went home and got a slim jim.
And nothing worked. And the slim jim works on CORVETTES for crying out loud.
(I'm not supposed to tell though.)
So, moral of the story: If you live in West Valley, invest in a Subaru (:
7 comments:
yep. i work at a couple schools out there. its ghetto. some of my students were talking about how lame it was that their pregnant friends couldn't party with them anymore.
you had to go to that freaky wierd geometrical building on like 56 West, didn't you....
Um....
This is just to say that I'm glad you're alive, and also that your housewarming present will be mace.
SWITCH BLADES?!
Once, my sister locked her keys in her car and someone tried to help her and ended up breaking her door handle...it's the thought that counts. :)
Note to self: Don't move to West Valley.
Note to Meagan: I'm glad you survived.
Wow! Of all places to need someone to break into your car you would think that you could find someone in West Valley. Dang, that's a safe car.
And I like your Italian Suits and the full trunks thing.
wow. just...wow. (a) i'm sorry about the car trouble & being stuck out in the middle of nowhere and (b) did you have that moment, right smack dab in the middle of all of these crazy happenings and think, "this is going to make a great blog..."?
Steph: Yes, it was that creepy geometric compound. It's actually kinda disturbing....
Annie: Ha, ha. Well since the company vetoes supplying us with mace, all right (:
Brittany: Too true. I was surprised by how nice and helpful everyone was.
Jessie: Good idea. and thanks (:
Erika: I know, you'd think that wouldn't you. I definitely did...
Nama: You know me too well. My face hurt from the grin I had as it just kept getting better, and better, and better... (:
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