Sing it again, rookie biatch!

A tale of two cities:

Coon Rapids
Josh, our intrepid, if increasingly scatter-brained, young-ish hero is about to embark on a free round of hitting a small ball with a crooked stick and then walking after said ball.

So, golf, if you didn't get that.

As he's about to fetch his tools for golf from his Why-Won't-You-Die-Already-mobile, he realized that he's locked his keys into his car. While searching for a nearby rock, Josh is alerted to the wonder that is the Coon Rapids Police Force.

A quick 911 call later*, Officer Mark has enters the scene.

He pops open the passenger door with some sort of balloon contraption I can only assumed was created in a super-secret lab. Officer Mark then advised me to make a copy of my key to avoid such a hassle again, told me to remember to follow-through on my swig and not drop my stance, and presumably, if there were an ice cream shop nearby, would've offered to buy a round.

The entire ordeal lasted no more than ten minutes, and Officer Mark heroically rode off into the sunset on his steed, which was weird for two reasons, it was the middle of the day, and if he was riding a steed, how did they radio him?

Everyone involved learned a valuable lesson, and it was the best summer of our lives.

Minneapolis
Josh, our intrepid, if increasingly scatter-brained to perhaps the point of late-twenties Alzheimer's, young-ish hero leaves the Leaning Tower of Pizza with Hippie Girlfriend to drink more at the Green Mill for the celebration of the 30th Anniversary of Andy.

Josh searches for his car keys only to have a Hippie Girlfriend point to them on my front seat.

Across the street, a boy in blue has pulled over a young punk. Josh waits for him to do his business, and as he's about to depart, Josh steps out into the street to wave him down. The officer doesn't see Josh, despite his jumping, flailing, and stopping other motorists to the point of getting honked at.

The officer turns the corner, and Josh attempts to chase him down by foot. The officer's top-notch powers of observation either fail him, or note that there's not a knife sticking out of me, so whatever problem I have will probably work its way out.

A quick call to 911 later, Josh is told to call back when there's a crying baby in the backseat that's close to death, but not yet dead.

Numerous locksmith's are then called, and while all of them are around to answer their phones, they are all booked-solid well into tomorrow for me to pay them fifty bucks for a minute of work.

One agrees to meet us in the morning, and after a quick debate of how cost effective it would be to just break the window, it's decided that's the best course of action.

Cut to the next morning in which Josh's car is no longer there.

Josh assumes his car has been towed, and starts calling around various impound lots -- none of which has his car.

(At this point, I'd like to think Officer Mark somehow sensed my entanglement, sprung up from his breakfast, cried out "My new friend's in trouble!" and began running on-foot to rescue me)

Apparently, what had happened was the car was picked up, and the two truck decided to take a leisurely jaunt across the cities before filing the paperwork.

After paying a hundred and forty to get my car back, Josh asked if they had the apparatus to gain access into my car, where my keys still lie.

"Yeah, we got that stuff."

"Can you help me?"

"Nah. Liability. We could break the car."

"You have my permission."

"Yeah, still no. We have a hammer if you want to break the window though."

After swear-words and pacing, Mom's fella' came to the rescue and retrieved my car keys.

The whole ordeal lasted twelve to fifteen hours, cost me well into two hundred dollars, and disrupted the lives of at least five or six people.

No lessons were learned, and it was the worst summer of our entire lives.

Eight days until Neil.



*I still get that same rush from calling 911 that you did when you were five. Like you were engaging in a life or death affair, or saving the world from nefarious characters.