Five Minute Friday

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Five minutes. Here goes: 8:55 a.m.

Word Prompt: City

I don't hate the city.

No, really, I don't. I have the happiest memories of city excursions: trips to Coors Field when I was a young adult and was exploring downtown Denver for the first time. Actually, it was not Coors Field now that I think about it -- but the Bronco Stadium where the very first Denver baseball was played -- before the Rockies. The Bears. Remember them, anyone? That dates me, doesn't it? 

I locked my keys in the car one time in downtown Denver after a game -- after dark -- on a sketchy

corner. I didn't want to call my Dad, because I'd already gotten the worst kind of reputation for locking my keys in my car and doing other generally ditzy things. So, what did I do? I stood there for a minute, feeling -- and probably looking -- helpless and pitiful. I was alone because my college friends had parked elsewhere and had already left for home -- and this was before cell phones. (Yeah. Dinosaur era. I shoulda just whistled for a pterodactyl) This is a scenario that actually does strike terror into the heart of a mother of four daughters; I know this now that I'm a Mom! And I'm actually still glad my parents didn't know about this until years later. I was so naïve and totally unafraid. And miffed. But, no fears. No terror of the dark city. (Stupid kid that I was) 

Maybe because my Guardian Angel was on the ball, though -- I don't know -- but help of an unexpected kind was on the way; before too long, two guys showed up out of nowhere. They looked like gangsters. Seriously. One was a tall, very big black guy with multiple piercings, the other a small dirty, homeless looking white guy -- but, don't judge. I didn't. I was desperate (which would have worked nicely into last week's prompt!). Anyway, they came over and asked if I needed any help. They saw that I'd locked my keys in my car. And, sure in my own positive young and naïve way, that the heart of the big city still beat and kindness still lived, I fearlessly told them about my plight -- figuring that, if anyone could break into my car, these two could! 

But they couldn't! Ha! Go figure! So, they're like: Do you have AAA? And I was like, "Well, duh." And they escorted me to a phone booth and stood nearby like bodyguards while I called -- and waited for the AAA truck to come -- then waved goodbye and told me to be more careful in the future; they couldn't guarantee they'd be there next time to watch over me. No. Really.They actually said that. This is a true story.

So, yeah. The city does rather scare me now. I've grown knowledgeable and jaded, I guess -- and wary. I feel safer in my country home -- where I can grow corn and pumpkins if I want to -- and know my neighbors. But -- Guardian Angels are everywhere. Even -- maybe especially -- in the city. It's good to remember. A little excitement is a good thing. But, seriously girls. If you lock your keys in your car, I swear I won't say a thing or give you a hard time (How Could I?): just CALL me! Those two Gangster Angels might or might not be hanging around wherever you are -- and there's no sense taking chances!

STOP: 9:00 a.m.

NB: If my sister, Nina, reads this. You remember? This was after that time Dad had to come rescue me --  (weren't you with me that time?) which was the reason I didn't want to call him... And seeing as this all followed my having locked my keys in the (still running) car after my first driving test, my credit was pretty darn bad. And you know that irritated face Dad used to make. That barely suppressed instinct to spank my twenty-year-old butt... One would avoid that at all cost!  You'll be glad to know that I have not locked my keys in the car in over twenty years! But if Dad were here, he'd probably still make a comment any time I left his presence, reminding me to not lock my keys in my car... (That still-lingering anticipating-mad-Dad shiver is probably why I don't.)