I usually cruise to the co-op for lunch. I have a pretty nerdy diet and it's one of the only places I can eat.
But a couple days ago, someone came between my co-op and me...and it wasn't cool.
I park in an unmonitored lot in Lowertown, St. Paul. One of those put-the-money-in-the-envelope kind of places. I've been in my current office since last October and so far, no parking lot problems. Until one rainy day this week.
THUNDERCLAP
As I approached the lot to high tail it to hippie heaven, I was dreaming of the lemon oregano chicken thingy listed on my co-op's website that day.
It was kinda cold out, and wet, and I wasn't really dressed for the weather, so I was booking to my car, when...
SCREECH!
I wasn't hit. That was the sound my brain made when I realized some selfish B had just ruined my lunch plans.
There she was. Well, SHE wasn't, but her busted, green Saab was...in a NON PARKING SPOT...blocking my car.
Oh, hell no.
Not only was I hangry, but I was freezing and irritated too, so what would that be? Frangitated?
It wasn't pretty.
Naturally, I decided to get into my car and try to wiggle out anyway. Her car was parked lengthwise behind mine - forming a "T". Getting out was futile and I knew it, but I half wanted to ram her car so I just started jerking my steering wheel the tiniest bit to the left, and the right, getting nowhere. Then I'd get out, reassess, and do it again.
I looked like an idiot and imagined an office full of people watching me from above laughing their asses off because I was basically impersonating John Cleese from Fawlty Towers. (Google the episode where he beats the shiz out of his car with a twig. Bawling funny.)
Finally, I gave up trying to move MY car and decided it was time to move HERS. My brain had gone into criminal mode by then inspiring the unscrupulous idea to simply open her car door, put her selfish little B Saab into neutral, and rooooooll it out into the street.
LOCKED.
$#@!
I finally ran out of ideas and gave up (to the dismay of the imaginary crowd above) and began mean-marching up Wacouta to 7th Street to a restaurant I had heard through the grapevine might be halfway decent. But I was SURE it sucked.
As I pissy footed my way there, I called the phone number on the parking lot moneybox and ratted out the Saab slut. (What? I'm sure she's a slut. She makes bad choices and slut is the number one bad choice for girls. And this wasn't a parked-outside-the-lines thing. This was I'll-park-wherever-I-want-because-my-happiness-is-all-that-matters-which-is-why-tonight-I'm-going-to-make-out-with-my-sister's-boyfriend. Yeah. THAT girl.)
The parking lot employee who answered the phone was very apologetic. She took the B's license plate number, and my tone with grace...and said, "I think I know who that is. I'll call her and tell her to move." (That's how I learned the person who drove the Saab was a slut...or girl. Whatever.)
So I'm swear-walking my way toward 7th, underdressed for the cold and drizzle, and pretty much bullshit by the time I reach the sure-to-be-horrible restaurant, and open the door...
Remember when Dorothy stepped out of her crumpled house and into Oz and everything was calm and warm and in technicolor? Well, that, my friends, was The Buttered Tin.
It was cozy, it smelled fantastic, somehow the sun was shining...INSIDE THE RESTAURANT...and the best part? The food...was...amazey mazey mazeballs.
I texted my friend, Steph Hansen, who is a way bigger food geek than I am, a photo of the hash I was inhaling. Sausage and Brussels and Yams, oh my! It was the most incredibly porny goodness my palate has ever had the pleasure to pulverize. (That was an annoying amount of alliteration but those words are the truth so I simply can't change them. Sorry.) Honestly. I had my way with that hash. It's a good thing I brought it back to my office and ate it in private.
So out of nowhere, I have a new fave spot. I can't wait to go back. I'm picturing fun client lunches, a place to take my kids, meet my besties, or snuggle up on a rainy Sunday morning.
The possibilities are endless!(Thanks, Saab slut.)
What I'm getting at, everyone, is you just never know how things are going to turn out. You might think you're having a bad day, bad month, bad decade even (I had one of those), but if you accept your fate, or even just reluctantly move in another direction, the blessings will show up.
Your happiness could be right around the corner...or 3 blocks north, slight left.
Peace
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