I was early for my meeting in East LA this morning so I sauntered into a local Starbucks for a Grande hi-test dark roast (please leave some room for the cream). Do I need some commas? ^^^
Strolling back across the macadam I suffered the moment of panic, patting each pocket while shifting the coffee from hand to hand. The keys were plainly visible through the tinted glass, lying on the console right next to the now-useless phone.
I figured there had to be a pay phone nearby. Sure those are relics, but still. Wrong. Asked at Starbucks. The guy lol, pay phone? But he was way cool and let me punch up AAA on his cordless phone, itself a near relic. Even better? When the dispatcher sent the tow truck to the wrong Home Despot, five miles further down, on Garfield and Slauson, AAA called the Starbucks to determine the problem. The chick at Starbucks took care of business for moi. She verified where they were and, get this, she came out and found me in the parking lot to give me an update. Now that, my friends, is service.
The guy drove a couple of rubber wedges between the door and the frame up near the top/rear of the driver door. Then, he inserted a rubber bladder that looked a little like a hot water bottle but had a knob control and an inflator like something you'd take your blood pressure with. He pumped that up by hand, which forced the door open a bit more. Then he inserted a long steel rod with a handle on the end and hit the unlock button, which set off the alarm.
Wham! Bam! Thank you, Ma'am! We were done. Well, he was done.
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