Stuck at the Library

I was on my way home from the vet when I decided to swing by the library to drop off some library books. There is a convenient 10 minute parking zone right in front of the drop boxes, so I parked there, grabbed the books and walked them over to the book drop. Ten seconds later I was back at the driver’s side door, reaching for the door handle when I heard the car beep. 

It’s the beep you hear when the car locks. “Hmm, why would the car lock right now? That’s weird.”

Standing in the street, looking into the car, past my dog in the driver’s seat at my purse on the center console, I realize, my dog locked me out. I repeat: My dog locked me out. 

This does not compute. I stood in the busy street for a moment, balking at the actual possibility that this just happened to me. Cars whirred by behind me as I stood in disbelief.

I looked in his eyes, wondering how I might be able to send him a telepathic message through the closed glass car window, to please step on my purse again, just so, so that the unlock button on my car key would be pressed. He turned to make room for me to get in the car, stepped on my purse on his way and went into the back seat.

I walked around to the passenger side door, tried that, locked. I tried the back door, locked. It was as if I thought that this 2013 model minivan might suddenly be malfunctioning and one of the doors would be magically unlocked. I stood there, still staring at the locked car, staring at my purse inside, holding my keys, my phone, and my wallet with the AAA card. I then thought of all of the roadside assistance programs that my life pays for through the insurance company, the car leasing company, the credit cards….all locked IN the car. 

The dog still watched me from the backseat. “Why isn’t she getting in the car?” he was probably thinking. “Why is she just looking in at me like that?”

I stood there some more. Truly unsure of what to do in the moment. It was such an unusual, unexpected, odd conundrum that I couldn’t even really process what I was going to say to a passerby because it was rather incomprehensible. “My dog stepped on my purse and locked me out of the car.” When you say it like that it sounds very clear and matter of fact. When you think about the chances of that actually happening to you, it becomes rather humorous and the chances of someone laughing at me first are much greater than feeling the urgency to actually help me.

Ok, well, so I had to actually do something about this. My car was in a 10 minute zone, with a visible purse sitting there in clear view, with a dog inside, windows closed on a sunny day.”At least it’s in the shade,” I thought. “What are my options?”

1. Break a window. Well that’s annoying because I’d have to replace the window, which costs money and time, plus, I’d have to drive around with a taped on bag flapping around until I do that, which is not cool either. I don’t like this option, so I think I’ll think of another.
2. I’m across the street from the police station. Can they help me? How many officers are there who can help me break into my car? OK, maybe that’s an option. Maybe I’ll see an officer walking down the street or driving out of the lot.
3. In the meantime, I could try to call my husband, Chris. I don’t have a phone, because it is locked in my car, but I could find one somewhere and see if he can come and unlock the car with his key.

So I walk to the front door of the library. The door is locked. The library is closed. “Police training, use back door” says the sign in the window. So apparently there are a lot of officers at the library, none of whom will be walking down the street anytime soon because they are at a training somewhere inside the far side of the building.

Next, I leave the car, walk across the street to the police station. “This should work” I think, “Police stations are full of helpful people” I’m thinking, feeling reassured. I walk up the steps, open the smoked glass doors of the station and stand there facing a glassed in reception desk. “Use phone to call” is a sign posted on the glass with an arrow pointing to the right. I look right and see an industrial strength phone attached to the wall. Through the glass I can see the back of a woman, headset on, papers in hand, typing something very quickly. “Is this the lady I’m going to be calling from that phone?” “Why can’t I just talk to her face to face through this glass?” I’m thinking. I stare at her a few seconds longer. I’m already feeling like I have the weirdest story to tell her, and staring at her back, not looking back to see who has walked in is not giving me the feeling that she is the helper type.

I look left to another counter. On the wall above it is a big sign “Booking,” and there is no glass to talk through. Two people talking to a woman behind the counter. These are the people I decide to approach.

I walk over to them, explain what happened, and the man hands me his cell phone.

I call my husband and he doesn’t answer. I call again, leave a message. It's strange to me that he doesn't answer after my second call. He always answers when I call him. So weird, not realizing that on his end, an unidentified number keeps calling him. Also annoying.

“Hi honey, I’m locked out of my car. I’m by the library and Ed stepped on my keys while I was returning books. I don’t have my phone and the library is closed, so don’t try to call me back. Just please come and help me. P.S. The dog is in the car with the windows closed.”  I call his work, leave another message. I'm getting a little annoyed inside that my husband isn't answering MY calls. Suddenly, the man who answers all of my calls on the first ring is not answering any of my calls. I’m imagining that his phone is off, that he is in a very important meeting and that I will have to go with option 1 or 2 in order to get back in my car.

I give the phone back to the man, thank him, and walk back to my car and wait, wondering how long I will be there. A few minutes later, the man at the station walks out with his phone, talking to Chris who had called him back. He was on his way.

So, I stood there. I did lunges, I did squats, I did a wall sit. I took some breaths, did some stretches, thought about how I would tell this story. This IS a story. You can’t make this stuff up. Eventually Chris came around the corner, rolled down his car window, drove by and unlocked my car with his remote as he passed and we were all finally on to the next thing.

See the dog? See the Purse? All he had to do was step on that bag and "click!"