Car Washes. They're Complicated.

Ok, I know between my Ballston and Clarendon entries, this blog is turning primarily into a public and written account of my failings as a human being. My latest life problem? A Carwash. Not a joke. Wish it was a joke, but it's not a joke. First of all, let us begin by lauding the patience of the staff at Super Wash over on North Glebe. (Also the site of my first car accident, ironic, but it wasn't my fault!)

So, I'm truckin' along in my little truck, and pull in to what I believe is the entrance to the car wash. You'd think I was born and raised in Alaska, when in actuality I've spent the last 19 years being seemingly as unobservant as possible. I've been to this car wash multiple times as a child in the car with a parent. Why did I never take notes?! Someone then directs me around back, along with the three other cars I've sorrily mislead. Okay, cool, now I'm at least in line. Can't screw it up from here can I? Hah. You clearly don't read my posts. Of course I can, don't be ridiculous. Being a part-Yuppie teenage girl, I of course own one of those absurdly patterned wallets that one attaches to her keys. Being what I thought was wildly intelligent, I detached the keys from the wallet before exited my vehicle and shutting the door behind me. That's when I hear, "Ma'am? The keys?" Oh it's fine, they're in the ignition.

And it would've been fine, had the door NOT been locked. Why. Me. Let's not fail to mention that someone I know is in line in front of me. Of course, because whenever I exist as a huge disaster I have to have an audience. Still debatable as to whether or not he 1) saw the debacle and 2) recognized me. The car wash staff then proceeds to bring out this really extreme kit full of large metal pliers and wedges for morons like myself who lock their keys inside of their car. I then profusely apologize (in Spanish) and accidentally mislead them into thinking that I can handle a foreign language at 80 mph. Whoops, my bad guys, slow down for the gringa. They were extraordinarily kind though and just kept saying I should walk around with a spare key, but not to worry this happens all the time. 

And there is my plug for Super Wash. Love them, embrace them, they can handle anything. They also managed to get some silver window paint that had been adhering itself with a vengeance to my back windows from my highschool senior year pride. Awkward. I'm in college. THANK YOU SUPER WASH :)