Do not pass go

Regular readers and even those who are a bit consternated, may recall that I recently had a mishap wherein my car accrued a series of parking tickets. What you may not know is that prior to that incident, I mistakenly left my car in a 20 minute parking zone for over 24 hours (no tickets that time, and the statue of liberation has expired, Uncle Stan!). And what you definitely don't know is the tale I am about to relate.

Last Wednesday, I met some folks to see the Whiskey Brothers and play some yahtzee as is our habit on the first and third Wednesday of the month. All was well and good until I made me way to my automobile. Fishing in my pocket for the keys, I opened the door and got in. Now heres the wrench in the works, it turns out my car was being protected by the club.

Normally, one would consider the protection of the club to be a blessing. However, that would assume that the club key happened to be on the key ring that one had in their pocket. For all the arm chair Agatha Christie's out there, you may have already guessed that the club key was not in fact in my pocket, but at home safely tucked away in a drawer.

With my friends' car having left with a full load and the hour approaching midnight, I decided to hoof it home. The silver lining is that I was able to incorporate this into my marathon training by waking up and jogging back to my car in the morning before Rita could get to it.

If there was such a a thing as a parking license, I believe I would have had mine revoked thrice over by now.