Overall it was a pretty good night—ate good food, saw old friends, played frisbee in Hermann Park, and saw Simone (which was not a highlight of the night). However the tough part came during the last part of the night, when Joe, Rene, and I went to see the movie. We took two cars instead of one or three, because I had driven to the park with Joe and Rene met us there, and to not leave a car at in the park we decided to take both cars. The problem came when we got to the Edward’s Cinema on Weslayan and neither Rene nor I wanted to pay the $2 for parking, because we’re both a little low on cash at the moment. So we drove around the theatre, and all the spaces were taken on all sides, so I had the brilliant idea to park behind the strip mall across the street from the theatre. There were only a few cars there, probably belonging to workers at the restruants and such, but I didn’ see any signs and we were only going to be in there a few hours anyway. Rene was nervous about parking there but I assured him that there wouldn’t be any trouble, and that if he was towed I would pay for it.

He was. There’s nothing quite as frightening as walking out and seeing absolutely nothing where your car used to be. Rene was a little hysterical, but we managed to think through the situation logically. Luckily Joe was there with his car and we drove around till we found the “No Parking” sign that seemed to have alluded us earlier, and we called the number, was redirected, and found out that the car was at a lot at 45 and Ennis (not a good neighborhood) and could be picked up for a small fe. So we all went back to Joe’s house to get my car, and I went to the hardest part of the night—getting the money from my parents. Thankfully my Mom was very understanding and in a short while I was back to pick up Rene and head to the place. One hundred and twenty dollars later Rene was back in his brother’s truck and I began the long drive home, utterly exhausted from the events of the night. Picking the car up was pretty easy, and nothing compared to the long car rides home and back when my mind went over every detail of the night thus far and thought of a thousand things that could have gone differently and prevented the whole thing. $2 would have saved $120, and I think the moral of the story has been burned pretty well into my head. Don’t declare liability for any risky ventures :). Oh, and parking where it’s legal wouldn’t hurt either.

I post this from the comfort of my sister’s beautiful house in Austin, Texas. Actually it’s in Pflugerville, which I think I spelled right, which is north of Austin just a bit. I made pretty good time coming from Houston as there wasn’t much traffic to speak of. Actually a large portion of the highway was freshly tarred over; it was at that perfect point, where it was fresh enough to be baby-smooth but had been there long enough to not get black all over your car. At some points I felt like I was in the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer adopts a highway and decides to make it less lanes so the lanes are bigger. Sometimes I felt like I had two lanes all to myself because the road was ride enough for 3 lanes and shoulders, and there was just one stripe down the middle, nothing else. Very luxurious.

The first thing I did in Austin (Pflugerville) was promptly lock my keys in the trunk of my car while I was taking things out. Luckily I had gotten my computer and other heat-sensitive things out of there, but it still had all my clothes and things. And the keys to my car. Now with most cars this wouldn’t be a big deal, especially since all the doors were open, just the trunk was locked. Most cars have a nice trunk latch by the driver’s seat; my car is not most cars. The matter was complicated even further by the fact that instead of the back seats lifting to reveal the inside of the trunk, they showed a sheet of solid metal, no holes. So I proceeded to call AAA and let them know of my situation, because they have been incredibly helpful in past pickles I have gotten myself into. The very polite lady informed me that the best they could do, considering the year of my car and such, was tow me to the nearest dealer where they would ask me a ton of questions, which would be a huge hassle, and lookup the code so they could make another key for the car. So it was going to amount to a huge hassle, and cost—neither which I’m looking for right now. My sister’s friends went out and banged on the car some more, trying to find a way to get into the trunk. Charleen in a stroke of genius decided to call the service number etched in to my glove compartment. Like a cool URI, the number still worked (after almost two decades) and she was put in touch with a certified Mercedes locksmith. Long story short (too late!), he was able to wedge open a whole and grope for the keys in the darkness of the trunk, eventually finding them and preventing any permanent damage to my car, all for a reasonable price. What scares me is those two car keys are the only two I know of in the world. I’m making copies tomorrow.

There are 269 contacts in my Sony Clié right now, I want that down as far as possible. How low can I go? By the way, filming for the show starts this Thursday!