Right As Rain
Wednesday - November 05, 2008
The weekend before last my sister-in-law came out from California for a short visit to see her mom and dad. It’s always great to see her, as everyone here adores her and she is very close to my wife, her younger sister. That same weekend they decided they wanted to hit a Christmas craft fair.
There was one at the Blaisdell, so I agreed to take them using my father-in-law’s mini-van. This act garners me a ton of points with my wife and her family, so I’m willing to give up a day of watching TV to make the sacrifice. It was raining cats and dogs, so I felt better driving them anyway.
When we got to the parking lot, it was full. I didn’t realize there were two other events going on there at the same time. There was a collector’s show and a Halloween haunted house. With that and the craft fair, I hit the Trifecta of parking unavailability, the “perfect storm” on a rainy day.
Naturally, I volunteered to drop everyone off as close to the venue as possible. That meant every possible implement for rain protection was raided from the van. I circled the block perimeter looking for street parking close enough where I wouldn’t get drenched in a sprint for cover.
Directly across the street from the box office I spotted two lots where it looked like people were parking. I jammed my way into the first one, not realizing I had to pay up front. The space I found was way on the opposite end of the opening.
I was getting drenched, as I had no umbrella or raincoat. Not that I would use an umbrella as, of course, I am a man. When I got to the parking attendant I found out that the charge was $10 cash. I only had five bucks in my pocket, and like William Shatner, I tried to negotiate.
No deal. So I jumped back in the van and drove all the way around to the other lot. I didn’t see an attendant so I thought I was home free. I parked in an unmarked stall but when I walked up to the opening saw that it was a self-service parking lot where you pay by stall number.
As I said, there was no number on my stall so I had to move to one that was marked. So was everyone else, so I had to get lucky, which eventually I did. I walked back to the money collection box and was elated that it was only $5, all that I had.
By the time I got into the craft fair and met up with my family, I was soaked down to the bone. My wife felt sorry for me but at the same time was laughing. It was the first time I ever bought anything at a craft fair. The booth selling Christmas embroidered towels made a killing that day.
E-mail this story | Print this page | Comments (0) | Archive | RSS Comments (0) |
Most Recent Comment(s):