I’m going to just blurt out the events of the last 24 hours as quickly as possible, so bear with me.

I had a lovely day yesterday in downtown Chicago. The details of which are completely minimalized by the horrors that awaited me upon my return. While taking a shuttle to my car which was parked at an ‘el’ train stop (Chicago’s equivalent to the subway), I realized that I didn’t have my keys.

Upon arrival to my car, I immediately saw them gleefully mocking me on my passenger seat. (Strike 1.)

The shuttle driver called into his radio that my dumb-ass locked my keys in my car and he managed to get tools so that I could break into my car of shame. He tried for 20 minutes in vein to open up my door but had to leave to continue his route. I was left to manage it on my own. 30 seconds later, I got it open.

In my happiness, I looked around and smiled as it’s the small accomplishments that sometimes mean the most. But my heart sunk when I also saw that I had a flat tire. (Strike 2.)

The shuttle driver returns and I ask him how to get to the nearest gas station. I’m assuming there’s one right around the corner but he directs me down a back alley and onto a main road. In my ignorance, I obey. I end up driving down a dank alley, two mph, with a flat, towards a mysterious gas station. The people in the alley made me feel a bit uncomfortable and I finally started to get nervous. (Strike 3.)

At this point, I decided to make a phone call.

Finally a stroke a luck as I called my roomie who just so happened to be dropping off her boyfriend at the airport (Midway) that I was just parked near. As a mechanic extraordinaire, she advises me to get the hell off the back alley and park my car so that my rims don’t disintegrate. I wisely obey.

She arrives, puts on my spare little donut tire for me, and saves my ass. (My knightress!)

Flash forward to this morning.

I arrive at the tire shop only to discover that I needed to replace three of my four tires (not a big suprise). PLUS, the reason my car was pulling in an odd way these last few weeks was because I had a bad tie rod. (Strike 4.)

After three hours of waiting for the pieces to be assembled on my wretched car and a $500 bill (strike 5!), this drama ends.

Lesson learned? Cars suck. I suck for locking my keys in it. And I now know how to change a tire.

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