Keys are funny things. You never realize how important they are until you don’t have them. It’s odd that something so little can cause so much trouble.
It all began when I went outside to get a book out of my car. About half way to my car, I realized my keys were not in my jacket pocket. Imagine my surprise when I find the door to my condo locked as well.
Being the nature of keys, they tend to live together. And currently, they had taken up residence inside my place of residence … my currently locked place of residence. Did I mention it was raining?
Now only two keys to my condo exist. I have one, and my roommate, cousin and owner of the condo, has the other. For months, my parents had been trying to get me to make a spare key. But I was too proud, independent and private a person to allow a spare key to be floating around out there. Besides, I have always felt that spare keys are a little bit like rabbits. They tend to divide and multiply.
Where was my cousin with the second key? In Oxford, in the middle of a date and not looking to come back anytime soon. Actually, I believe I heard the girl say something about lying down behind his truck should he choose to leave. OK, fair enough. I would not want to come back, either.
It became obvious that I was not about to be rescued from spending a night locked out in the rain, with a hungry dog and a laptop full of unfinished work on the other side. So I did the only thing I could-became a temporary freeloader on my neighbor’s couch, bemoaning my current state of affairs. That is at least until I realized that I did have a spare car key in the console of my car-the hatching of a truly unfortunate plan.
The smart thing to do right about this time would have been to find a place to stay until morning (which would not have been all that hard), suck it up, and deal with an angry dog and overdue homework the next day. However, I don’t always choose the smart and easy way.
So I decided to borrow a flathead screwdriver, a coat hanger and a flashlight. Within minutes (this was not the first time I had locked my keys in my car), I was inside my car, headed to Oxford in search of the elusive second key. Oh, my night was only beginning.
I may not be a complete stranger to Oxford, but I am not exactly what I would call familiar with it. And as much as I hate to admit it, my sense of direction normally borders on terrible.
After about 15 wrong turns and a tour through a side of Oxford I hope never to see again, I managed to find my cousin and score the second key. I would be home before midnight, and things were definitely beginning to look up. If only the hunger pains had not chosen that particular moment to hit.
A plate full of waffles and hash browns later, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. And the pretty little Weather Channel map of Mississippi had a not so pretty red blob showing thunderstorm warnings from top to bottom. I hate storms.
But who knows how bad it could be in the morning, I could be stuck there all day (I can overreact a little from time to time.). Well, I decided to chance it and go ahead and make the drive since the thunder and lightning had not given way to buckets of rain yet.
To make a long drive short, I hydroplaned on my way from Oxford to Calhoun City. Annoying me even more, I was forced to drive way under the speed limit. And then to make matters worse, a rather frisky raccoon decided to scamper across the road directly in front of my tires, causing a swerving reaction leading to another hidden water puddle and lots of shaking. The good news-the raccoon lived to see another day, chock full of opportunities to terrify other weary drivers.
I pulled into my parking space, condo key in hand, six hours and enough caffeine to kill a horse later.
This brings us finally to the moral of the story, dear readers. Spare key equals less heartache. And as far as what I learned from this whole fiasco, I know where I will be first thing in the morning. I will be the first person in line at the Wal-Mart key counter.