You know...those keys that like to taunt you from your desk/counter/key holder/ignition switch/console...from the other side of the locked door? Or maybe those keys that you let your toddler play with, then he goes outside, then you never ever hear from those keys again. Or maybe it's that set of keys you put in a safe place so you don't lose them...then a year down the road you move & find said key, right where you NOW remember putting it? Yea, I have just a little bit of experience with all the above. Stupid keys!
This is a multipart installment of stories....
I can't remember too many run ins with stupid keys when I was living at home, with my parents...it wasn't until after I moved out and had been out on my own for about 6 months before I encountered my first stupid key/car combination.
I was 19. It was actually my 19th birthday party that lead to the whole fiasco. See, I'd never drank, never had any intentions of EVER drinking, but I was at a fairly low spot in life with all going on...if only I'd known just how much worse it was soon going to get in life I would have been pretty happy at that particular point. Anyhow, I started off drinking. Shots of cinnamon schnapps. No clue how many, but do know it was well more than my fair share, especially for a first timer.
Someone severely pissed me off in the middle of all my fun, I left the party...then walked the 6 blocks to where my car was parked, at a swanky hotel that we were all going to crash at after the party.
So I'm pissed off, wearing a really cute short dress & HIGH strappy heels...and DRUNK and PISSED off. I make the stupidest decision EVER that I was just going to leave and go home, even after walking those 6 blocks. I figured if I was able to walk that distance, down a partially gravel road, in strappy HIGH heels I was good to drive. I didn't even fall once. Check out my Fire Pit of Reasons for why this was such a great marker for me to judge my abilities by. Apparently I can walk on my feet without face planting when drunk.
I finally get to my car, but it's not an ordinary car for a 19 year old. It's a 1985 Dodge Diplomat - the one with the big 5.2L V8 engine, in pristine condition. There were only 43,000 original miles on it, it'd been housed in a garage, oil changed on it every 3 months, everything else changed out every year, only driven to church on Sundays in it's 25 years of life. It was awesome, for a grandma...or a broke teenager who was able to get it for $200. It was a purring BEAST. I had room for my clothes & shoes in the backseat, for when I wasn't home, I had my fishing poles & tackle in the trunk, books in there to read, my drawing pad, microphone & amp, and still had room to haul several tall people in it at the same time. Only one tiny flaw with it. You could not unlock it from the driver's side door. You had to unlock it from the passenger side, hit the unlock button, then walk around to the driver's side to get in. No big deal.
Unless you're drunk. And pissed off.
After I got to my car I yanked off my shoes, unlocked the passenger side door, hit the lock button, then threw my purse & keys into the driver's seat before walking around the car to get in.
I'd meant to throw my shoes in.
And meant to hit the unlock button.
So now you have a 6ft tall chick, holding strappy HIGH heels, pissed off & drunk, locked out of her car.
I start wailing on my car with my shoes, throwing them at the car, cursing the car, the whole works...just unleashing my frustrations on the car for being a stupid hating on me car.
Around this time a lovely patrol officer drives through the parking lot. Remember? My car is parked at a swanky hotel...drunk chick beating on a grandma car, at oh, roughly 4am..tends to draw attention.
Mr. Lovely Officer stops by and asks me if there's a problem. No dumbass...I'm beating on this car at 4am, with a pair of shoes that wouldn't break fine china for the thrill of it....is what I wanted to say in my pissed off state. But I refrained, broke down into tears, and explained about how I'd locked my keys & purse into my car.
Mr. Lovely Officer had a slim jim in his car and was so gracious as to unlock my car for me, then see me off down the road.
Two blocks later he pulled me over to ask if I'd been drinking. I didn't even try to lie. I passed my field sobriety tests...I can't do that sober, not at 19, definitely not even at 29. He took me to the station to call my GRANDMA to keep me out of jail for the night. The legal limit was 0.1 back then, a month later the legal limit changed to 0.08. I blew a 0.095...roughly 2hours after I'd quit drinking for the night. I was a big girl, plead guilty when I went to court, and paid my dues. I've not locked my keys in a car since then. Stupid keys & stupid car...saved my life & likely the life of others and for that I'm thankful. But still pissed that the officer was so stupid as to unlock my car in the first place and watch me drive off.
******
Jump forward a few years and I have a hilarious tale, for me to tell, about my brother's experience with stupid keys and a stupid car.
My brother had an 89 Ford Cougar. It was his baby. He was only maybe 21 at the time and was installing a new sound system in the car.
For whatever reason, the guy who never locks his vehicles, never even takes the keys out of the ignition, back then, anyways, had both door locks in the locked position and the keys in the console, as he was working on the car.
At some point he had to go inside, it's started raining pretty hard, so he shut the door to the car. A bit later it stops raining and he goes out to finish working on his stereo system.
Only to discover that his keys were locked in the car, only set of keys.
Now, this may be an appropriate time to mention that at this time he'd JUST gotten out of prison...his charges included grand theft auto - not the video game.
I assisted him in breaking into his car to get his keys. We pulled & pried the top of the door open just far enough to hook the keys that were laying in the middle of the car with a wire hanger, and after a few drops we succeeded in getting the keys out of his car. Now, when I say we, I actually mean me, after I figured out what he was attempting to do in regards to breaking into his own car.
We worked DILIGENTLY not to break any windows.
And succeeded! No broken windows, keys out of the car, door unlocked, he finished hooking up his sound system with it's fancy speakers & amp, the whole works.
He sits there and shakes the windows of the house after it's all set up, listening to the new boom of his car.
He turns off his car to come inside and announce his victory, he shuts the door to the car....
Then it happens.
The driver's side door window SHATTERS. I'm not talking a crack or a piece, but 10,000 thumbtack head sized shards just drop to the ground.
I'm not too sure I ever laughed so hard...and I don't think he's ever been so pissed at an inanimate object before in his life or life since then. Stupid keys...stupid car...not too bright brother.
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