Sarah and I have been friends for a long time (almost ten years, to be exact). And in those ten years, we have done a lot of things, most of them involving a certain disregard for standards set before us. We reveled in annoying the leader of the praise band in high school. We were as obnoxious as possible in front of people we disliked. We famously refused to pay a dollar for driving through an airport parking lot until we spoke with a manager. We gave a certain air of ... conceit?
Well. It has caught up with us.
This year, we got season tickets to Gammage Auditorium and Broadway Across America. Usually when it's a show night, we have dinner in Tempe and then attend the show, well-fed and satisfied. At the last show we attended, we decided to eat at the PF Chang's on Mill, but rather than looking for a parking spot for PF Chang's, we parked at the Jack-in-the-Box across the street. I should point out that the Jack-in-the-Box had signs like the one above.
And yet, we pressed on, were not towed, and had a lovely meal. And so, in the same way, Wednesday night we parked there anyway, had a lovely meal at PF Chang's, and exited the restaurant, ready to be dazzled by theatrical feats hitherto not experienced. Think again! We returned, only to find..
Or something like that. Picture a Jack-In-The-Box wall. Well, after some swearing, general frustration, and yes, a few tears, we discovered that the Jack-in-the-Box has a camera that the towing people watch and wait for fools like us to leave the property and then pounce! They're like lions, only much less noble.
And so, we pressed on, calling a cab (which I had never done before), and the cab hauled us off to what will from now on be referred to as the SATY (Shady-A** Tow Yard). When we pulled up to the SATY, there was nothing but a dirt lot, surrounded by some chain link fences and a huge sign that said NOGALES CAR COMPANY. Greaaaaat. Honestly, the only thing missing was a couple of pit bulls. When the SATY people came to unlock the gates, I was disgusted when they pulled up in a Cadillac! Honestly. I am in the wrong profession. You educate the youth for a living, and you drive a Honda. You pounce upon people's ill-parked cars and practically steal their money for a living, and you drive a Caddie. There appears to be an imbalance in the force.
The men got out with a MagLite, and the Suburbia dweller in me wondered whether or not we were going to be beaten to death. In any case, we escaped, got the car back and drove home, Sarah's bank account emptier, and Broadway free.
No one has been impressed by this story (well, except for the quality of my gross exaggeration when telling the story in public). But, I suppose this is simply another entry in The Idiot-Girls Action Adventure Club. Take this, and learn.
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