Moment in the Life of a Flake

I seem to have misplaced my brain. There are a lot of reasons I believe this; this entry will only detail one of them.

Saturday, for the first time since I was sixteen years old, I locked myself out of my car. I have prevented this in the past by making sure I only lock my car with the remote; if the remote is in my hand, my keys are in my hand, and I’m fine. Well on Saturday I had just finished unloading my rig for a show and went to park my car. I started to walk out to my stage when I decided I needed my knee brace. I stopped to get my knee brace out of my trunk and set down my purse (which had my keys hooked on it) to put on my brace. It was only half an hour later that I realized I closed my trunk without picking my purse back up.

At first I hoped I had left them somewhere else. Three years ago I thought I had locked my keys in my trunk only to discover they had been taken by a pirate (in my life, statements like that make sense). No, this time I had really done it.

Thus began a somewhat awkward period of trying to figure out which of my friends and coworkers had shady enough hobbies they might be able to help break into my car. Turns out I have a car which is particularly difficult break into. Notoriously difficult even. People would look ready to help, ask what I drove, then shake their heads. On the one hand, that’s reassuring. I’m less worried about local miscreants breaking into my car to steal all my showtune CDs. But at the moment it was super annoying.

Fortunately I got a truck out there in just under an hour and was able to get into my car and changed in time for my first show. Unfortunately, that was not the most embarrassing thing to happen that day. It’s no fun being a flake—if anyone has seen my brain I would really like it back.