It was a rainy Portland Sunday night a couple of weeks ago when I decided that I wanted pizza for dinner. I knew this was a cardinal sin, but my will is incredibly weak on Sundays. I pulled up to Pizza Hut on North Lombard, turned off the ignition, dropped the keys in my purse and hopped out of the car and locked it...with my purse and keys still sitting in the passenger seat.
Fuck.
It took me three seconds to decide against calling Chris even though he has AAA. Instead, I went inside the Pizza Hut and asked for the yellow pages. My wallet and insurance card were in the car as well, and I do not have my insurance company's number programmed into my phone. (Miracle of miracles, my phone was in my coat pocket.) Admitting I was locked outside my car was no big deal. Who cares? But there was no way I was letting Chris find out I was parked outside a friggin Pizza Hut! Are you crazy?
While I was on hold with the insurance company, I wandered over to the fire station to see if maybe they had a lock jimmy. The guys there were friendly but said they couldn't pop my lock unless there was an emergency. (They asked if the car was running, if there was a child inside and if it was on fire. Ha.)
What they did do is offer to let me wait inside the station rather than stand around in the rain or in the Pizza Hut.
I got a hold of the insurance company and they gave me the name of a locksmith that I called to come out to my car.
While I was waiting, one of the firemen made me a bowl of Baskin & Robbins chocolate chip ice cream with chocolate sauce on top. I would have felt rude for turning that down! One of the other guys made fun of me for wanting to eat at Pizza Hut in the first place. "Wouldn't you rather have Papa Murphy's instead?" He was totally right.
Locksmith dude finally got there (he told me 20 minutes, it took 50). He spent 14 seconds popping my lock and another 3 minutes writing up a receipt for 165 goddamn dollars. He said the price depends on the vehicle and, in my case, day and time (Guess he thinks popping locks on a Sunday night is a pain in the ass). I have a feeling he jacked up the price because I said "yes" when he asked me if I had insurance. State Farm is going to reimburse me, but sweet holy Moses, $165? That would've been one expensive pizza...
After the check book rape was over, I hopped in my car and put Pizza Hut in the rear view mirror. This was Diet Karma. It served me right to shell out $165 on a rainy Portland Sunday night as punishment for my weakness. It was a testament to the severity of my lack of willpower.
I hope this blog will help keep me honest in my goal to eat healthfully, and if nothing else, I won't be embarrassed to call Chris when I lock myself out of my car in front of the All You Can Eat 100% Healthy Diet-Safe Salad Bar and Iced Tea Stand.
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