You all know the feeling.
Realisation hits.
Your stomach drops.
Your heart stops. Then starts again.
Beads of sweat start to form as your body flushes, your eyes shut and your head drops.
A voice silently screams – No, NO, NOOO!!
FUCK NOOO!
You are a hair’s breath away from complete and utter panic, because you know you have fucked up.
Royally.
Even though you intellectually know it’s not possible, your primitive self begs to go back in time just a few minutes. Seconds even. Anything – just so you can go back and not make the mistake you just realised you made. A do over.
It’s the OH FUCK moment.
We’ve all had them.
Realising the day AFTER your GF’s birthday. Leaving that website open on your shared laptop. Forgetting that it’s your turn to pick up the kids from school. When those red and blue lights apear in your rear vision after a few too many at the pub.
I had one in Montreal.
Involving Charlotte. And my stupidity.
Charlotte was parked in a lot next to a Starbucks in preparation for an AFL game in the morning.
I’d been at the local pub/bar/brewery having a couple of very tasty ales.
Well maybe more than a couple, perhaps a few.
Or maybe even a boatload..
I wandered back round midnight, my phone on about 3% charge (having spent much of the evening staring into it’s pale enticing screen).
I need to charge my phone. And my ipad. And probably my laptop, as the inebriated part of me thinks a movie before bed would be relaxing, forgetting that in reality I’ll just fall asleep within 2 mins of lying down.
I open the drivers door, jump in the front seat and attach my phone to the charger residing in it’s designated slot.
FYI – I have an ongoing need to charge a phone, an ipad, a laptop, bluetooth headphones, a spare phone battery and a travel battery. I’ve created a system ustilising an AC adapter plugged into one of 2 cigarette olders, from which a 6 point power board extends.
Every charger has it’s spot so it’s usually a doddle to attach my electronic armada to each of the cords and away you go.
I usually charge everything as I drive, but occasionally I’ve done it at night while parked.
Only after twice falling asleep, to wake up in the morning to a flat battery and having to call AAA, do I implement a mandatory policy that the engine must be running when the charger is on. Fuel is cheaper than a new battery or a call-out (I’ve reached my 3 call-outs for the year).
The observant of you will note that I do have a spare battery and a travel battery, but I’m not at my problem solving best.
I turn on the engine, make sure Charlotte is in park, dim the lights, and it’s time to move from the drivers seat to the back captains chair so I can stretch out.
Because I opened the front door with my key, I flick the central locking so the side door unlocks before I jump out and walk around the car.
But the side door won’t open. Ok I’ll do it again.
Walk back around to the drivers door and pull on the handle.
Nothing.
I’m starting to get a sinking feeling as I desperatley try both the passenger and rear doors.
Nope.
The OH FUCK Moment hits.
I must have clicked the central locking to on instead of off, before jumping out of the drivers seat.
So there I stand sweatily considering my predicament.
Inebriated. Locked out of a RUNNING car. No phone or wallet. After midnight. In a parking lot next to Starbucks. In Montreal. All the shops are shut (including my bar). Nowhere to sleep. No way to call anyone.
Fucking Brilliant.
I consider my options – I don’t appear to have many.
Smash a window (Last resort). And I have to find a brick. And not have it bounce back into my face.
Try to break in (even sober that’s not likely).
It seems as if the most amenable plan of action I can think of is climb on the roof and try to sleep until Charlotte runs out of gas and the morning arrives. Then if I can somehow get help, I’ll need not only a way in, but a gas top up before I can even start her up.
Did I mention the starbucks parking is meant to be 15 mins only and the car can be towed after that. No issue now, but in the morning???
I’m fucked.
Completely. Utterly.
But then inspiration hits. There are two small sliding vents in the back, which let air into my “bedroom”.
They are self locking once closed, but did I perhaps leave one open?
Nope.
Well not quite. The passenger side is shut fast, but the drivers side seems to be ajar. And by ajar I mean 5, perhaps 3 mm from shut.
10 mins of struggling, pushing, sliding, cursing, pulling, levering, praying and just plain old yelling later, I manage to slide it open.
Same for the fly screen.
Now to reach the central locking button on the back door.
Of course it’s situated on the passenger side. Can’t reach it by hand. I search for, and find, a stick.
Try and manouever the stick to flick the button.
Picture a soundly inebriated man, with one arm stuck into an open window about 10 cm wide at waist height, holding a stick, trying to get it to hit and push a button a good half arm’s length away from the farthest point I can reach.
Imagine a new born giraffe on ice skates trying to dunk a basketball.
You get my drift.
Then Success. The button clicks and the back doors unlock.
HalleFuckingLujah.
I open the doors, kill the engine, remove the keys from the ignition, open the window, check the keys are in my hand, close the door, walk around to the side door, get in, insert the key in the ignition, close the window, take the key out again, remove the charger from the cigarette lighter (I’m not going to fuck this up again), stumble over the seats to my bed and lie down.
Berating myself for my stupidity, I get that wonderful feeling of relief.
I’ve lucked out.
My girfriends birthday is TODAY not yesterday. No-one opened the laptop. The kids are safe and sound and I’m only 15 mins late. The police rush past me on the way to another job.
Fucking Bliss.
It always works out in the end. I don’t know how. It’s a mystery.
