That Was The Week That Sucked

Years and years ago, there was a TV show that comically summarized the news of the past week.   "That Was The Week That Was."  It was hosted by David Frost and the closing song had lyrics that said "it's over now."

I look at my last week and gladly announce the same.

It's over now.

We all have them.   Those days bunched together that just scream "stay the hell in bed."  The calamities pile up like New York garbage during a sanitation strike.  

Indulge me as I relate the bizarreness of my last week.

My week from The Blazing Hot Spot Down Under began on Sunday morning.   I headed down to my garage around 9AM for my church duties.   I backed out of my space and the car seemed awkward to handle.  I left the garage and got six feet into the street.  Something was wrong.

The rear passenger tire.  Now being served with maple syrup at the International House of Pancakes.

This was not simply a tire losing pressure at a slow leak.   You could really drive the car anyway, although I did back up into my garage parking space.  The problem was that I was the one bringing the bulletins and the communion bread for the church service.  I called my pastor and she told me not to sweat it since she was having flu-like symptoms and headed home.  Indeed, she was the one sweating it.

Okay, I'm not an auto mechanic nor do I play one on television.   I stared at my car.   I know they told me where the spare tire was when I picked up the car at Toyota.  But who really pays attention to any of those instructions except for those pertaining to the radio and the air conditioner?

I have been a AAA member for 14 years and realized that I had never called them for anything.   Heck, that's a great deal for them.   A decade and a half of my money and they will make one single roadside assistance call.

The AAA car was there in fifteen minutes.   He took the bad boy off in five minutes.  He popped the spare one in three.  Meanwhile, I am standing there in awe.   So that's where the spare is?  And that's how you release it?  Truth be told, if you ask me again to repeat his actions, I couldn't.  After all, it still had nothing to do with either the radio or the air conditioner.

Naturally, I wound up at Toyota to replace the bad tire that had a nail in it so long that it might have been used for a Biblical crucifixion.  I feared they would try to sell me three more new tires so they would all match.   Um, these are tires, not the Lennon Sisters.   They don't necessarily have to travel in a group.

I figured this was the lone dead spot of my coming week.

Wrong.

The very next day, I went down to Culver City for a business luncheon.  For those of you unfamiliar with the town that once housed MGM Studios, the traffic patterns are a little confusing.  Streets end abruptly.  There are completely illogical intersections.   Laurel and Hardy used to film their movies down there.  I know why.

I was on my way home and talking to a friend on the blue tooth of my car.  I made a right turn.  There were two motorcycle cops standing in the street.  They motioned me to move to the right lane.  I figured there was an accident up ahead.  Or maybe we were making away for another Presidential motorcade.   Did I read that Michelle Obama was in town for lunch at Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles? 

Wrong.

The guy with the bigger boots approached my car window.

"License and registration please."

Huh?

I listened to my dad's voice in my head.   Never argue with the police.  Do as you are told.  I did.

I had made a right turn on red but there was a sign forbidding it.  Oh.  I had gotten nailed for a moving violation about ten years ago when I inched into a turn at an intersection while there was somebody in the crosswalk.  My writing partner used to lovingly refer to this as the time I "plowed through a bunch of Mexicans."

The cop asked me for my autograph and I complied.  I immediately thought of all the necessary California consequences when this happens.  A fine that pays for Governor Gerry Brown's next lunch.  A foray into an on-line traffic school that sucks a whole day out of your life.  Crap.

I looked at my rear view mirror.  There were at least five other cars pulled over behind me.  Suddenly, this was a major payday for the government.  Perhaps the sign on the corner was new.  Maybe they had put up just this morning.   It clearly looked like I wasn't the only one duped.

Okay, that now officially ends the suckiness of my week, right?

Wrong.

Two days later, I am coming home from another business lunch.   Don't worry.  I'm already out of the car.   This is not another automotive dilemma.  I am walking up the stairs of the side of my apartment building.   Our elevator's wiring has blown up again and looks to be out as long as the one on "The Big Bang Theory."  I go to the outside door for my floor and turned the key.  No problem.  As I pull the key out, I drop my key ring to the floor.  No biggie.  

I'm headed out for the evening and, oh, wow, Los Angeles, it's raining for the first time in months.   I go down the side walkway to get to my car in the garage.   I use the same outside door key for entry into the garage.   It doesn't work.  It doesn't even fit into the slot.   Is it the wrong one?  Nope.  

I finally manage to pull the key out and I examine it.  It is slightly bent.  By a nano-milli-inch.   But just enough for it to stop working.

Okay, now, I have a spare key.  On the dresser in my bedroom.   But I can't get into the garage.   I can't get past the gate to go up the walkway.  And, even if I could, I can't physically get into the building.

Can I mention again that it's raining?  

With plenty of money in the bank, I was suddenly homeless.

I buzzed the head of the building HOA who came down to let me in and get my spare key.   Oh, yeah, and also to towel off and re-do my wet hair.

The next morning, I went to the key store to have another duplicate made.   Come on, I see how valuable now a spare key is.  The Arabian guy behind the counter could barely speak English.  Save for one word.

"No."

He held up the key I wanted to have copied.

DO NOT DUPLICATE.

This simple act was now going to endure several levels of complication.  I needed the HOA guy to give me authorization.  Yada yada yada.

I went home and laid on my bed.  It was 2PM.  I put a pillow over my head.  And then thought twice about my next move.

Well, at least, I still had my health.  In this...the week that sucked.

It's over now.

Dinner last night:  Fried chicken cutlets, potatoes, and mixed vegetables.