The Ignition Key

There once was a boy named John and his honey-bunny Michele. In late 2004, they went off to John's company's Christmas party, hosted at the Magnolia Hotel Ballroom on 17th and Stout in downtown Denver.

John and Michele had their car valet'ed. This was the first time they'd done it. Last year they decided to park on their own to avoid the line waitin when leaving the party. But this year, John knew his company a lot better (last year he'd only been with them a month) and was feeling festive enough to trust the attendant.

John and Michele has a wonderful time at the party! They spent time with their good friends Sean, Richard and Jolleen, Rajesh, Tony and Lori, Tom and Melissa, Puneet, Hemant, Pravin, Shashi, and more. They all sat at a table and ate a great Christmas feast including Prime Rib, and then indulged on the chocolate fountain bar, eating handmade chocolate-covered strawberries and pound cake and bananas and marshmallows!

YUMMM! (again)

John and Michele ended the night with a prolonged political discussion with Rajesh, Shashi, and Puneet. In the end, everyone enjoyed the fervor and the long night and we all departed.

Jon and Michele chatted with more friends while waiting for their car to be brought down to them. How fun! Time passed. Where was the car? Time passed some more. "Bonnie got her car, and they were behind us," John noted. John and Michele sat down and waited some more.

"Mr. Blanco," a voice bellowed. They looked up and saw the red-jacketed attendant. "How do you open your car?" he asked.

"Oh, the ignition key doesn't work on the door. You need to use the key fob." John politely noted. Incompetence, he thought.

Five more minutes passed.

...

"Mr. Blanco?" the familiar rang again. "It won't work." John and Michele decided to follow the incompetent man up to the car. The shame of this. Valet parking they call this? As we walk to our own car in the parking lot??

John and Michele and the red-jacketed man reached the car. "Let me have that," John demanded. With great pride, John aimed the stealhty key fob at the 1998 Volkswagen Golf he loved so much.

Click.

Nothing.

Click.

Nothing again.

John and Michele stood there. John's mouth was agape. "Oh shit," he said.

"Perhaps the battery is dead? We can run down to Walgreen's and see if they have one," the red-jacketed man said. Perhaps he wasn't so incompetent?

"Good idea," exclaimed John! So the three of them went down to the Walgreen's, passing thugs, gang-bangers (the clean kind), and others who had trouble with the English language. They talked to a nice lady who retrieved duplicate batteries and despite the nice red-jacketed man offering to pay, John sprung for the batteries. Back to the car we go!

Click.

Nothing.

"Fuck!" exclaimed John. Poor John and Michele were stranded. Their car was stuck in a hotel parking lot. All of their friends who they'd had a jolly time with were long gone, and they knew they were stuck. Could anything be worse than this.

John and Michele discussed their options. "My extra key fob is at home, so we can find a way to get home tonight and then come back tomorrow and unlock the car," John claimed.

"Good idea. But we don't have our house key. Remember, you left it at home so you wouldn't have to carry it in your pocket tonight," offered Michele.

"Shit."

So John and Michele and the nice red-jacketed man headed down to the Light-Rail station and purached a couple seats and headed to Mineral station.

"You guys have had a hard night, I'll pay," the nice man offered again.

"No, see? It's just $2.50. I got it," and as John ponies up the money to the inanimate machine, the red-jacketed man noted that it's usually more expensive and he thinks he may have gotten it wrong.

"Here's this for your troubles, sorry about my car," John said as he offered the man a healthy $5 tip. He deserved more. But cash was low. John felt terrible, but better about things. The man thanked him and left to service more ordinary cars.

John and Michele boarded the train. It was olnly their second trip on the rail, but thanks to they friend Jay they knew how to handle it. Michele called up her mom and asked her to meet them at Mineral Station, where should would drive them home and use her spare key to let us into our house. The night would soon be over, and they'd retrieve the Golf in the morning. So tired...

As the train pulled away, John gazed at their tickets. "Local" they said.

"My god. We needed 'Express' tickets to get through to Mineral! We have the wrong tickets. We're about to be kicked off the train!"

***TUNE IN NEXT BLOG FOR THE EXCITING SECOND PART OF THIS CHRISTMAS PARTY TALE!!!!!***