It’s the middle of finals week, six days till Christmas, and ten days till my wedding. Once again, I ask myself why we thought it was a good idea to get married at Christmas. Never mind. It’s handled, everything’s under control, and I am just fine, thank you very much.
I have a break between tests and stop in the local Hallmark store for a little last minute Christmas shopping. Inside the store, I run into my future husband’s aunt. Although I’ve only met Sue a few times, she seems like a very nice woman and I desperately want to make a good impression. We chat for a minute and go our separate ways.
It’s time for me to get back to campus, so I bundle up and head out to the parking lot. Shivering, I stick my key into the door lock of my 1972 yellow VW Bug. It won’t turn! The lock’s frozen AGAIN. I try the other door with no luck. Aaarrgh! What am I going to do? I can’t miss my final!
“Need any help, miss?” asks a passing gentleman.
I explain my predicament and he tries the key without success. About that time, my future “aunt-in-law” leaves the store and heads our way. The man fetches a can of de-icer from his own vehicle and liberally sprays my lock. It still won’t open. My panic grows.
“I can drop you off at your exam,” Sue offers as the man pounds on the door handle.
But he is not ready to give up. “There’s a dry cleaner down the street,” he says. “Maybe we could get a coat hanger and open the lock that way.”
That’s when I happen to look up and my heart sinks to my shoes. I look again just to be sure. There’s no mistake. MY yellow Volkswagen, distinctive by its unique sunroof and ski-rack, sits parked several spaces further down the row.
I want to die of embarrassment. I quickly run through my options. Is there any way to get out of this without exposing myself as a complete idiot? I could say, “Thank you, Sue, but I think a nice walk in this frigid air would be delightful.” Or how about, “Oh, I forgot. I urgently need several dozen more Hallmark cards!” No, it would never work. I was going to have to confess.
“Oops. This isn’t my car,” I stammer, a hot blush creeping up my face. “Mine is right over there.” I laugh, but it sounds like a strangled gurgle. “Thanks anyway for all your help.”
The Good Samaritan graciously goes on his way, but not before shooting me a look that says, “Get some help, lady.”
I steal a glance at Sue. She is fighting to keep a straight face, but I can see the mirth shining in her eyes. I’m doomed. I know within the hour, this story will spread like wildfire through my fiancé’s family.
We laugh politely at my mistake and she wishes me luck on my exam. I head over to my yellow VW and the key turns effortlessly in the lock. Cheeks still burning with embarrassment, I am thankful I was spared the indignity of having the other owner show up while we were trying so diligently to break into their car.
I bang my head against the steering wheel a few times, take a deep breath, and head back to campus for my next test. Six days till Christmas, ten days till my wedding. Frazzled? Not me. I’m just fine, thank you very much.
so funny, I laughed out loud. I loved it. Felt like I had been there and done that, too. I drove a yellow VW in college too, and once a can of shaving cream exploded in the back seat from the heat of the engine vent (which is how VW’s were heated back then.) I thought I had been shot at until I smelled methol!
cheryl courtney, February 11 2007