Last night we celebrated Grace's birthday. Like last year, it was held at the incredible San Francisco Elks Lodge. It's basically a banquet hall on the 4th floor of a large hotel. There's dark wood, stately chandeliers, high ceilings, and plenty of drunk Elks . . . oh, and cheap drinks!
We spent the night with some of the best people we know: Grace (first, 'cuz it was her birthday), Darby, Sam, Henry, Ben, and all the new friends we've met through Grace. We also got to meet Ben's lady-friend Kristen for the first time, which was very exciting!
I found out that my new favorite drink is a mix of cranberry juice and sparkling water, so yes, I became the designated driver.
It was a really fun night. Everyone was so nice, and the Elks are always welcoming. Welcoming to the point that they invited Grace to join the club, and I think she's seriously considering it.
During the night, Sam kept urging us to stay in the city. He said, "I'm house-sitting this great place in the Presidio. There's an extra bed! We have Flight of the Conchords and Wii!" I was nearly tempted by this offer, even though I'm such a party pooper that I tend to insist on going home after we attend any get together, especially if I didn't bring all of my hygiene products. Sam wouldn't believe me when I said I was high-maintenance, so we agreed that I'm medium-maintenance. Right before my arm was twisted into staying in the city, I realized how tired Brian was, and I decided that he probably wouldn't be awake through Conchords and Wii, so we said our good-byes, and started walking to the parking garage.
It was about 1:00 when we left the party.
We made our way to the garage, gave the attendant our ticket, and he retrieved the other half and the key. Brian and Darby payed the $30 tab (hey, it's the city) and got their change. All we needed was Brian's key, and we could start the trek home. But the attendant, an older gentleman, didn't have our key. He said he just had it, but it wasn't in his pockets or on the counter. He started lifting everything on the desk, checking pockets that he certainly wouldn't put a key in. He got really frustrated and flustered. He said he was really embarrassed, and that in 25 years he had never had this happen. He was looking everywhere: on the ground, in the trash cans. After a few minutes, we started peering through the window and and suggesting spots. When we suggested things like, "we never saw the key, maybe it's in the car." He would say, "No! You're not listening to me, I just had it!" Even though he hadn't really said anything to us before about where it could or couldn't be. After about a half-an-hour of standing around and watching him fruitlessly search for our key, Brian said, "Sir, we have another key. We're going to take off. Don't worry about the key." The man accepted this, but asked for our number so he could call if he found it. We agreed. We left feeling sorry for the attendant, knowing how crazy he must feel, and assuming that that would be the strangest thing to happen the rest of the night.
It was now at least 1:30.
We got out of the city (thanks to Darby's iPhone) and onto the 280.
The 280 is the freeway that goes out by Palo Alto. It doesn't go through many cities, mostly fields and some wooded areas, so it's really dark. I'd been driving for maybe a half-an-hour, when we passed a car with its emergency lights on. As we passed, a guy jumped into the right lane, waving his hands in the air. I was in the lane second from the right, so I wasn't in danger of hitting him, but his actions seemed to indicate that he was in real need of assistance. Maybe he didn't have a cell phone. Maybe his pregnant wife was going into labor in the back seat!
So, with Brian and Darby's agreement, I pulled over about 100 yards in front of the other car. Brian said, "put on your emergency lights and lock all the doors." Darby echoed, "lock all the doors!" and they began to walk back to the man.
I fumbled around for a while--not realizing that the triangular button in the middle of the dash, that I see every day--is the emergency lights. I got the emergency lights on, and kept the car running for the radio and the defrost, and I waited. While I was waiting, the radio flickered. I wondered if the battery was getting low, so I turned off the car and just left the emergencies on.
A little while later, Brian came back. He was on the phone with the police, who transferred him to the CHP. He said, "this guy was over to the side with his emergency lights on, so we pulled over to help him. He says he's out of gas, but he's obviously been drinking." The woman on the phone said she'd be sending someone out. As they spoke, I tried to start the car because I had the feeling that my battery was stressed before. The Subaru wouldn't start! It wouldn't even try. So Brian had to tell the CHP operator that even though we had just stopped to help, we would also need the CHP's help. The woman felt our pain and said she would also call a tow truck, in case the jump from the CHP wasn't enough.
Brian then went back to get Darby, who was staying with the "drunk driver". I never got to meet the man, but apparently he was one strange duck. He didn't know why his car wasn't running, if it was the battery or the gas. He seemed overjoyed to see Brian and Darby--even giving Darby a hug at one point--and he offered them money, presumably to get gas. He had an iPhone, but he hadn't called for help. He kept saying we were near "Vista Point" when we were near a vista point, and he hadn't thought to use his iPhone to see where he really was. He didn't have AAA, and it wasn't until after we arrived that he called the CHP on his own, after we had already called them.
Brian and Darby got back to the Subaru as the CHP pulled up behind the man, relieved that they wouldn't be present as he was breathalyzed and put into the patrol car. Soon the CHP car pulled up behind me. I tried to get out of the car, but he told me to stay inside as we were parked on the side of the freeway. We told him what the problem was, and he pulled in front of me. The two officers got out, and Brian and Darby helped them attach the jumper cables. I tried the key once. It didn't work. Then one of the officers readjusted the cables and tried it again. Thank goodness, it worked the second time. I then had to rev the engine a bit to help charge the battery. As the officers were getting back into their car, Brian asked about the man in the red Sebring (convertible, didn't tell you that before). The officer said he wasn't drunk. He said, "I know what you were thinking, but I guess he's just a happy guy."
Brian and Darby still think he was drunk . . . or at least on some other sort of stimulant.
As soon as we could, we tore back onto the freeway. The rest of the way home, we talked about the events of the night, not believing the absurdity of it all.
We dropped Darby at his apartment in Santa Clara. I told him he'd have to "tuck and roll". But I was kind enough to stop to let him get out, although a never turned the engine off.
Brian and I got home at 3:30 and were in bed by 3:45. We were very happy to be back, safe and sound, in our little apartment. We talked, as we got ready, about how we should have just stayed in the city. About how, if the attendant hadn't lost our key, we wouldn't have met the crazy man on the side of the road, and my car wouldn't have needed to be jumped. Did we need to know the battery was acting up so we wouldn't get stuck somewhere else? Usually I'm not a "things happen for a reason" kind of person, but last night made me wonder.
When we got home, we had two messages from Mike Gomez telling us that he had found the key behind the computer, and to please call him.
The car hasn't had any trouble starting today, and Brian thinks the battery looks fine.
