Given my inability to find my way out of a paper bag, I’m glad that there’s a landmark just before I have to make the turn onto The Wedding Date’s street. I know this because the last time I met The Wedding Date at his house (back before Thanksgiving) I missed the turn, pulled over a few blocks later and called the man in question to ask, “Where are you?”
This prompted the obvious “Where are you?” to which I was forced to reply, “I don’t know.”
“Do you see the house with all the Christmas decorations?” he asked.
“Well that’s my street. Turn by the house with the Christmas decorations. I’ll head out front to look for you.”
As such, it was with the utmost confidence on Friday night that I turned off the highway into the residential zone where The Wedding Date lives. Yes, I was running late. And yes, it was already dark and therefore harder than usual to read the street signs, but all I had to do was find the house with the Christmas decorations.
Unfortunately I failed to take into account that the last time I went to the visit the Wedding Date, it was November. No one (except for the neighborhood eccentric) had their Christmas decorations up so it was easy to find the one house that was all decked out in light up reindeer and plan my route accordingly.
Now that Christmas is just a few weeks away, however, things have changed. Now, there are Christmas decorations everywhere, including at the house-before-the-street-that-leads-to-the-elementary-school and the house-before-the-street-that-is-actually-three-blocks-too-far.
Needless to say, I won’t be relying upon seasonal landmarks again anytime soon. Light up reindeer are way too fickle and by the time I find my way out of the elementary school parking lot and turn around three past The Wedding Date’s street, I’m a bit flustered.
This why I decide to restore my sense of confidence by attempting to parallel park behind The Wedding Date’s car (at least I’m pretty sure it’s The Wedding Date’s car… you know me and cars. I still can’t remember if his is gray or black and I’ve been inside of it four times).
Unfortunately I can’t parallel park. And even though there is only one car parked along the curb, I manage to block the entire street with a K-turn that turns into a five-pointed W-turn in a severely embarrassing display that would have made my driving instructor (and my dad) cringe.
I keep glancing towards The Wedding Date’s front door, thankful that there aren’t any windows on this side of the house, but then I glance up to make sure I don’t run into the gray/black car that may or may not belong to The Wedding Date when I see a familiar black leather jacket emerge from the bushes.
Inside the jacket is The Wedding Date, meaning he’s witnessed the entire ordeal.
“Interesting technique,” he observes as I turn off the engine, trying not to laugh.
“I know,” I tell him, “it’s my trademark.”
“Well, you’re still about two feet from the curb.”
And so I am.
The next morning I’m in the shower when I hear a knock on the door.
The Wedding Date opens the door just ajar and repeats his question. “Are scrambled eggs okay?”
It would seem that my lack of parking skills weren’t quite the turnoff I feared they’d be. In fact– well, I’ll have to save that part for tomorrow.