Another Texas Triumph

Ladies and Gents, please prepare for my grand entrance.........

ANNND, I'm Back. After a nearly 3 month hiatus, I have returned to regale everyone with tales. Stories about future travel, revisiting Texas, and a bad rent-a-car situation sure to make you tinkle in your trousers. And because it is that specific story that prompts my writing today, the decision has been made to first share it with you.

So, this is how it all went down!

I must admit I'm a bit behind on the technology consumption and still have an ipod with a turn dial and a flip phone that i have to push all the buttons to:) So, as you can imagine, anything more than a touch screen is a bit foreign to me.

The Boyfriend and I Made our way back to Texas, this time Dallas was our destination. A college buddy of his was due to wed and we made it our business to attend and represent New Mexico in the most fashionable way- High Heels, and massive Vodka Sodas. Well, Jarred and I arrived in Dallas on Thursday night. As soon as we got in, he called up his boys and they decided on a bachelor party- definitely including a strip club. Though I was invited, I decided to pass. This was boys night. Instead, I just funded my darling with a plethora of ones and fives to gingerly place in many-a-g-string. I said I'd have some wine, and read my book. It was already late. After convincing him it was okay that he left me, I decided to grab some take out. Now, our rental was a cute new Nissan Altima 2 door. Very sporty. Very zippy. The best part was that the vehicle was key less. One of those push button starters. I wasn't a big fan of driving in Dallas, seeing that anyone who drives faster than 15 MPH without their hazard lights on terrifies me.... but the place we were staying was smack dab in the middle of restaurants and shops galore. So, I go to get into the car. (We had already driven it from rental lot to hotel, and everything seemed fine.) I get in. Buckle up. Check all my mirrors. Pushed the button once. This is the equivalent of turning the key enough to have lights, radio, and window control. So, naturally, I push the button again. It didn't sound like it had fully started, but i just figured it was new and one of those "quiet cars," like a Prius or something of the like. What ev, so I put it in reverse and I begin coasting back slowly. (At this point, I'm feeling pretty sexy and confident. Here I am in my sporty sleek car, in Dallas, going to get food and booze. Out of my way big hair and Palin lovers, Miss Beer is here, and she's driving!) I pushed the gas to speed up the process of my reversing, and nothing happens...I just keep floating back at the pace of a disabled snail. Immediately, I hit the brake and put it into park. Thinking this was somewhat awkward, I decided to drive it up the 5 feet I had previously reversed to start fresh. Chuckling to myself, I put it into drive, (No joke, still thinking I'm hot shit) and continue to roll backward.

WTF?!?!?!?

My chuckling has turned into a fear stricken panic. I can't figure out what's going on. I proceed to turn the car off, on, reverse, drive, everything I can think of short of pulling out the manual. Nothing works. I'm literally moving further and further back out of my parking spot into the 'point-of-blocking-trafic. So that's right, I nerd out and search for the operators manual. Surely this is a common occurrence, in these new fangled automobiles. I search all the once clever compartments, now mocking my driving, (and for that matter, living) ability for the "THIS IS HOW YOUR START YOUR CAR, MORON" handbook. There's no such manual. Fuck.My.Life. The last thing I want to do is call Jarred. He's out with the boys, and I really don't want to look like a crazy needy girlfriend, nonetheless, an incompetent one... "Uh, hi, baby. How do you start the car?? Also, can you change my diaper later?" This is what I felt like. So, I rummaged a bit more and to my delight, discovered a blue little paper that actually says how to start your car. Gleefully, I begin reading, and find that it says, as if pointing a finger and saying 'nanny nanny boo boo', "Put key in ignition. Turn keys. Car is started." AH!!!!!!!! It's outdated, and I feel like a buffoon. Near tears, with my sporty car that is now looking gimpish, small, and anything but profound, I cave and call the man. He answers and I can practically smell stripper perfume through the phone. Sure that he has a massive pair of dirty pillows in his face, he still tries to help me. He tells me everything I already know, and can't figure out why I can't drive. He asks if I'm drunk. Nope. He asks if I've moved it out of park. Yup. I'm feeling like an absolute goon. I tell him I'll figure it out, and hang up...trying to save some dignity. Finally, I take my situation into perspective; car half-assed out of it's parking slot, and laugh. This bull shit of a predicament is outrageous. I turn the car off (if it was ever on) and walk across the street to Chile's. I consume my weight in Gin and Tonics (Which only amounts to two this particular evening) and eat shitty food. Walking back to the hotel, I stumble, not because of the drinks, but because of the oddly placed sprinkler in the middle of a gravel parking lot, and almost drop my left overs. I get into bed. I think at those point I might as well order a 'good movie.' Apparently the Comfort Suites in Dallas does not offer such 'good movies.' Fine, I'll read my damn book...

And no sooner does Jarred text me for a ride. (FUCK MY LIFE) Not only did I have a few drinks, but I can't even start the car. Instead of trying to explain that to a drunk lover and his friends I opted to ignore all calls. That's right, completely ignore. And there were many. I started to feel bad, but thinking that I'd have to explain my failure of life situation I was more embarrassed. I win, no ride for you. Finally, he took a cab, and I may have told him I "fell asleep" and didn't hear the calls. (Later, we laughed about the situation). The next morning, we decide to go to 6 flags. We go outside to see the rental half in it's parking space, and half in the way of everyone trying to dodge it as they drove around the corner. Jarred didn't say anything, just looked at me, shook his head and laughed. We get in the car, (I'm in the passengers seat) and I tell him EXACTLY what I did and to show me EXACTLY what he's doing. First things first. He PUSHES THE BREAK AND THE BUTTON to start the car. It starts, with the proper car starting noises and everything...........


I blame the fact that my parents never taught me to drive a stick on not knowing to push the break when starting a car. BLAST!

Expect some photos soon friends, and some exciting questions on my (potential) journey to China in the early fall!