TAB and The Misplaced Automobile

Since this Monday has dawned decidedly crappy, I'd like to take a minute to share with you all a story that is appropriately indicative of the occasional faux pas brought on by my Blonde Gene. Before you ask? Yes. This *actually* happened.

I had only been in Los Angeles for a couple of months and was working insane hours for two editorial internships, including requisite bitch work event assistance. (Working the guest list, making sure drunk D-listers get in cabs instead of driving, fending off groping photographers, etc. What a charmed life!)

At one event in particular, I think it was one of our issue release parties, my editor gave me the okay to invite one of the super cute fellas I was crushing on so that in between telling people "I'm sorry, you're just not on this list. Maybe you should have your agent call your contact here. No. I don't know who you are. I don't have TV," I could flirt and wink and be otherwise entertained by the presence of a cute boy.

Cute Boy arrived in all his newsboy-cap-and-tattoo-glory and, will wonders never cease, we had a great time hanging out. After the last D-lister had left, Cute Boy and I headed over to a small punk rock bar on Hollywood, coincidentally right by his house. I hadn't had anything to drink (duh, I was working) and so I drove and parked in one of the numerous $8 lots on one of the small side streets off Hollywood. This is the part where I should have paid attention, but I was distracted... maybe by something Cute Boy was saying, but probably by just how cute Cute Boy was. We hung out at a bar, had a couple drinks and decided to walk to Cute Boy's apartment, which was "just a few blocks behind Hollywood!" so that we could hang out some more and make out on his couch watch movies. This is the second part where I should have paid attention, because "a few blocks behind Hollywood" was Cute Boy code for "probably the longest, most confusing and circuitous route away from anything recognizable, sort of like Labyrinth but I haven't found David Bowie yet." Again, The Average Broad was far too distracted by things like "you better be a good kisser for making me walk this far in heels, you SOB, but oh... that leather jacket looks really, really good on you..."

At Cute Boy's apartment, we had another few drinks and did indeed make out on the couch watch movies, until we both ended up passed out on his couch. I woke up at around 4am, suddenly very aware that the parking lot where I had parked my car would charge me a hell of a lot more money than I had on me if I did not move my car by 6am. I kissed the Cute Boy on the forehead and strapped my strappy heels back on to try and make my way back to my car...

...which was...

...where, exactly...?

I was hopelessly lost. I didn't recognize any particular direction, street sign, landmark, sleeping bum... anything. I called Cute Boy to see if he could give me a general direction in which to head, but he didn't answer. Most likely passed out on the couch.

I kept walking and finally, FINALLY found Hollywood Blvd. Okay car, where are you?

I walked up and down almost every side street. I checked almost every parking lot. I found the bar and retraced (uh, I think?) my steps and still... my car was nowhere to be found. It was almost 5:30 and I started to panic, so I did what I always do in my times of panic. I called EM, who was oh-so-fortunately awake due to an early makeup gig.

"EM!" I started to sob into the phone. "I lost my car! I am on Hollywood and what if it's already towed and my feet are bleeding because of my stupid strappy heels and Cute Boy is passed out and not answering and I've been wandering around Hollywood for almost 2 hours already and I think everyone I've seen thinks I'm a hooker and I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DOOOO! ::sob sob sob::"

"Whoa, TAB," EM said. "Calm down. What do you remember about where you parked your car?"

"It was an $8 lot on one of the Hollywood Blvd side streets."

"And?"

"...and Cute Boy has lovely brown eyes?"

"Sigh. I'm heading down there. Meet me at Hollywood and Random Side Street (that she knew off the top of her head and took me another 20 minutes to find)."

EM picked me up (wow, did that make me look even more like a hooker?) and patiently took me up and down every side street, past every parking lot, until we both noticed one of the blocked off side streets that was being set up for a farmer's market.

"Did you check that one?" EM asked me.

"Well, no, because I didn't think they would just close down a street that had a parking lot on it cuz then people wouldn't be able to get out!" Why would I even look there?!

EM looked at me with that I love you even though you are sometimes special ed look that she gives me when dumb things fall out of my mouth and made a loop to drive up the back of the blocked off street.

There was a lone $8 lot with just two cars glinting in the early morning light. One of these cars happened to be my beloved.

"MY CAR!" I squealed. I hugged EM and she sped off to work. I sashayed over to my car.

"I missed you, car! I shall never ever abandon you for Cute Boy again. Even though he probably won't talk to me anymore anyway because I called him almost 30 times this morning while I was trying to find you," I said. I checked the clock: 7am. I had been lost in downtown Hollywood for 3 hours. After that, I drove home, ate breakfast and crawled into bed.

At 9am, Cute Boy finally called me back after my 29 or 30 frantic voicemails.

"Why didn't you just stay? I would have paid for your extra parking. Plus we could have gone out for breakfast - I know how much you love bacon. Also, I would have bought you new shoes!"

At least, that is what I imagine he should have said. After I sent his call to voicemail, he texted me with:

"30 voicemails? don't call me again!"

To which I replied: "Not a problem. My car is more reliable than you are, anyway."