Free??, by Slade Ham
A friend of mine called with a free ticket to see a sneak preview of District 9 the other night and I naturally took him up on the offer. Free? Of course. I had plenty of time to get there before the movie started. “By the way” he says, “they’re not allowing cell phones into the theater to make sure no one leaks footage, so unless you feel like sneaking it in just leave it in your car.”
No worries. Being without my cell isn’t a sensation I’m comfortable with, but I’d rather leave it in my car than with some minimum wage Edward’s employee. I pulled in, parked on the side of a strip center parking lot, and walked over to the theater. Even on the worst day, two hours of things blowing up never ceases to put me in a slightly happy mood, and a lot of people exploded in the movie. A LOT.
It was a welcome reprieve. I definitely needed the distraction. By nature, I operate on anything but an even keel. Things are either remarkably smooth for me or incredibly testing. I rarely seem to have long stretches without volatility. It keeps me on my toes. This was one of those stretches where my month’s schedule rearranged itself a thousand times, dates fell out, other dates moved, unexpected bills popped up, and personal stuff wouldn’t get out of my head long enough for me to deal with the rest of it. One of THOSE days…
But I just watched people blowing up for two hours. I walked back through the night air stepping a little bit lighter than when I walked in. Hakuna matata. I could not be happi-
Where the fuck is my car?
Are you kidding me? I walked over to the patio of the café next to where I parked and approached the way-too-flamboyantly gay manager. I say that because you need a visual to understand exactly what I was dealing with. I had essentially walked up to a thirty-something year old woman on a power trip, cleverly disguised as a male panini cook.
“Did you have a car towed from here in the last hour or so?” I ask.
“I couldn’t tell you,” he said.
“Meaning you don’t know? Or you are not at liberty to? Or what exactly? Because it looks to me like you face a wall full of windows that look directly at where my car was parked, and I would think that you would remember, I mean I know I would, if a big tow truck showed up in the last hour or so and hauled off a blue car.”
“All I know ith they have camerath all around here, and if you leave the premitheth they can have your car towed,” he lisped. “Maybe you shouldn’t have parked there.”
“Wow. Really? A man in a box that watches video footage and calls in tow trucks? That’s the story you’re selling? Or… maybe it was you. Can we just admit that? Maybe YOU called because exercising power makes you feel validated somehow? Maybe screwing up another person’s day makes you feel
better about the fact that you still wear a name tag to work? Am I close here?”
“I don’t have to explain mythelf. You need to call thith number.” He then produced a phone number and address written, I swear to God, on a hot pink Post-It-Note.
I had thus far done a really good job of not committing what would certainly be misconstrued as a hate crime. I grabbed the piece of paper and fired off some clever parting shot that was followed up by a “whatever” from the gay guy. “You’re right,” I think to myself. “Whatever. I’ll just call a cab and get a ride to the tow yard and get my car back.”
And then I remembered my phone was in my car.
It is 10:00 at night and I am standing in a parking lot in a part of town nowhere near where I live, with no car, no phone, and no phone number for anyone I know because I rely solely on technology to keep track of my contacts . Fuck.
Anyone who has ever traveled with me, either here or overseas, knows I navigate by what can only be called “the Force”. No rules, no maps, sometimes no game plan at all… I just close my eyes and pick a direction and go. And it generally works. I did exactly that that night. I just started walking. I needed a cab but didn’t have a phone or even the number for a cab company. One will show up, I tell myself. Watch. I need money first anyway. I have twenty dollars in my wallet. That’s not going to get my car out.
Then I walked into a gas station, pulled out my last $200, and walked back out the door at the exact same second a cab pulled in to get gas. I climbed in the backseat and handed the driver the address. It could have been a scene from a movie. A really stupid, boring movie, but a movie nonetheless.
The cab took my twenty and the towing company, which is essentially just a legalized theft and extortion ring, took my $200 from an ATM. I drove away trying to figure out the right way to look at it. On one hand I managed to resolve the entire issue in under an hour with none of my usual tools at my disposal, AND I pretty much made a cab show up with my mind. My luck, or whatever it is, held out long enough to get me exactly where I needed to be as quickly as I could have possibly gotten there.
On the other hand, I ended up paying $213 to see a free movie.
Nice one, Karma. Nice one.
I want a rematch.
-S
