Never let it be said that I don't have a sense of humor, especially about myself. I am about to share one of the most humiliating yet hysterical experiences of my life with the world---well, the blogging world. (Deep breath). Are you ready? Do you have some tissues handy? You'll be crying with laughter in a few minutes.....
My in-laws are visiting over the holiday weekend and graciously offered to watch the boys so I could go do whatever I wanted. I've really been wanting to see Eclipse so I jumped at the chance to go. I've never been to a movie by myself, but, frankly, being home alone with the kids so much since Chad's away, I was looking forward to some kid-free time. So I go to movie and had an enjoyable two hours in the dark with Taylor and Rob. As I'm walking out the door I'm fishing around for my keys. My purse is monstrous so it usually takes me a while. Actually, I'm surprised the keys weren't in my pocket. I usually keep them there so I'm not forever rummaging around in the abyss. I'm standing in the middle of the parking lot still looking. They aren't there. My keys are not in my purse. I feel around my backside and pockets again. Nope. Not there. I walk back to the ticket booth and ask if anyone has turned in keys. Nope. I start walking back out to where I parked again thinking that they must be in my purse and I'll just find them when I get to the car. Where is my car? Shit. Yes, I cursed. Where is my freaking car?!?!?!?!?!?!? It's gone. My car has been stolen while I was taking a two hour mommy hiatus. What are the odds?
I'm starting to breathe rapidly. I simply cannot believe this. I stumble back into the movie theater where the employees have gotten the manager. I sink to my knees, literally. I'm in totally shock. This can't be happening. The manager asks if I'm sure. "YES!" I tell him. I'm positive. I don't have my keys and my car isn't out there. "Could someone be playing a joke on you?" he asks. I begin to cry. "I don't know anyone here!" I wail. Then it gets really bad. I start sobbing uncontrollably. "Who would do this? Who would take a car with my babies' seats? What am I going to do?" Keep in mind these questions are barely understandable since I'm crying so ardently. A crowd gathers. Two lovely ladies console me while the manager calls the police and gives them the description of my car that I somehow manage to sob out. I call my in-laws to tell them what happened and that I may be late. My FIL is going to come up and wait with me. I have completely lost it by now. I'm having a total breakdown in front of about 20 people. Truly, I don't know what I'm going to do. After all the phone calls have been made and we're waiting for the police and my FIL to arrive, I'm still wailing about my kids' car seats--really, this is my main concern, more than the car itself--a man comes in from the parking lot and says, "You have a black CRV, right?" Yes, yes, I do. He repeats my license plate number. Uh-huh, that's right. "It's parked right there." he says as he points to my car, plainly visible in the parking lot.
I hug him immediately then dissolve into laughter and cry "But I still can't find my keys!"
The story ends with lots of laughter (from everyone including myself) and embarrassment (all me). I eventually find my keys on the floor of the theater. My only defense about not seeing my car is that I knew I had parked next to the last handicapped space. What I didn't realize was that there were four rows that had handicapped spaces. When I walked out of the theater, I was looking only at the first row. I will never live this down. Ever. It was so funny, I really don't care how much ridicule I have to endure.
Though I'm not sure if I can ever show my face at that movie theater again.