No doubt you'll agree with me that the perfect ending to a night out with friends is to leave the restaurant and find your friend's car missing. And after that, what's even more perfect is to see a sign for a towing company swaying menacingly in the wind.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
And by "perfect," of course, I mean "donkey-anatomy-suckingly crappy."
This weekend, some friends and I went to an Addison bar and restaurant that is named after a European city. To protect its identity I will call it "The Manchesterer."
My friend Kate, a mom and a generally heads-up citizen, parked her truck at a closed office building. Many other bar-goers were parked there. Enough, in fact, to obscure the "DON'T PARK HERE OR YOU'LL RUE THE DAY" sign.
When we discovered that her truck was gone, I was all like, "Wow, that's bad luck, Kate! See you later! Have fun!" But this guy who is always trying to coach me in ways of not being a jerk said, "Shut up, Jessica. Kate, we'll take you to the tow yard."
"Right, that's what I meant," I said.
The tow yard was in an area of Dallas that can only be described as post-apocalyptic. I was worried that we would be attacked by radiation mutants or something.
Luckily, there were no mutants, but there was a couple that was either inebriated or very angry. Perhaps both. The woman kept shrieking "Call 911! They've stolen our property!" And the man threatened to ram his car through the yard's gate.
Kate, though, was very polite, acting as though she were Oliver Twist to the towing company person's Headmistress.
"Please, sir, may I go get my truck?" Kate asked, practically dropping a curtsy.
"That's $150," the Headmistress said, impressively chomping gum and smoking an unfiltered cigarette at the same time.
When Kate tried to back her truck out of where it was parked, she found that her reverse no longer worked. She started hyperventilating.
Luckily, I was there to take charge. "Kate," I barked. "I'm gonna need you to get a hold of yourself."
She calmed down, because I am awesome. I totally missed my calling as a hostage negotiator or something.
Ironically, we ended up having to have a tow truck pull the truck out of the space while Kate frantically filled out damage-claim forms.
But everything turned out OK, and we learned some great lessons. The most important one: If you're going to popular Addison bar "The Manchesterer," make sure you teleport rather than drive.
Jessica begins hostage-negotiator training next week. E-mail her techniques at jburgess@quickdfw.com.
