A Day At The Dump
Wednesday - August 27, 2008
My wife’s younger brother and his family recently moved to the Mainland. While we will miss them dearly, I was tapped to help them move out of their house. That’s what happens when you own a truck: Everyone wants you to haul stuff for them.
My wife loaned him her key to my truck, but I ended up doing all the hauling in the final days prior to their departure. On the evening before they left the island, we loaded my truck with stuff that needed to be disposed of at the municipal dump - actually, the transfer station for stuff that goes to H-power. I promised them I would take it there the next day after they left for the Mainland. Good on my word, I was pleasantly surprised to find the dump site void of any other “dumpees.” It was the Waipahu site, which means I had to drive my truck up a one-way elevated U-shaped ramp.
I moved to the farthest position on the ramp, which would allow at least five other vehicles to line up behind me. I emptied my pockets before getting out as I didn’t want to drop or damage my cell phone. I turned off my engine and left the keys in the ignition. As I exited the cab, I lifted myself up on the curb of the ramp, placing my hand on the inside door and inadvertently depressed the lock. In what now seems to have been like an Olympic gymnastics parallel bar move, I swung my body out, still depressing the lock and slammed the door shut.I had essentially locked myself out of the truck.
That’s exactly when I noticed there were five loaded trucks behind me on the ramp and about eight more outside waiting in line to get in. We’re talking about 13 Titans, Tacomas and F-150s waiting with their gas-eating engines running. The guard came flying up and insisted I move my truck. When I told him I locked the keys in it, he told the five trucks behind me that they had to reverse out of the narrow ramp. He explained by throwing his arms in the air and yelling, “This guy locked his keys in his truck.”
If I was in any one of those 13 other trucks, I know what I’d be thinking about the idiot driving the black Dodge Ram. The pressure was on and unable to use my cell phone now locked in the cab, I asked to use the guard’s phone. I called my wife and, of course, her key was still in the possession of her brother on the Mainland. Another security guard came walking out with a wire hanger.
I went into Gone In 60 Seconds mode and tried to jimmy the lock. By now I was drenched in sweat and all eyes were on me as though I had the key to the only bathroom at an NFL football game. Just as I was about to consider breaking the window, the lock popped open.
As I drove away, I kept looking back to make sure no one from the dump was following me to seek revenge.
Otherwise, I just may have to join my brother-in-law on the Mainland.
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