GOING THROUGH THE CAR WASH WITH THE REAR WINDOW OPEN AND OTHER UNPLANNED ADVENTURES

He said, “Sir, you realize that you are under oath?' I answered, “I am.” Then he said, “Can you explain to the court how you drove through a car wash with your rear window open?” “I swear, I swear to all that is holy that I lifted up all the automatic window buttons to make sure the windows were closed before I went into the car wash,” I said somewhat less than confidently. “Then can you explain to us how the back seat of your car was drenched if you closed all the windows?” I was at a loss, I know I hit those buttons but the window was open when I exited the car wash. The only thing I could think of to say was, “It must be the vast right wing conspiracy.” To my dying day, I'd swear that I closed that window but Lake Ontario in my backseat testified otherwise.

It might be part of the aging process. At least I hope it is. Otherwise I'm looking at a significant bout of CRS (Can't Remember Shit) forthwith. After a brief mental lapse, it was bad enough to get picked off second base as a teenager in a close Babe Ruth league game, but now I'm in the early stages of blaming the bride for moving my car keys when I can't find them.

Which brings me to Exhibit B of the “I think I'm losing what's left of my mind” saga.

The former Miss Massachusetts and I are happily heading to Logan Airport for a trip to Washington, DC and Chapel Hill, North Carolina. The Washington part is so that we can be introduced to the newest Dahlin' in our ever expanding line of grandchildren. Sara with a capital H (that's what I call her) is now on the scene and we are so looking forward to meeting her for the first time. The second part of our trip is to Chapel Hill for the wedding of the daughter of a close friend.  My friend Joe and his wife, were kind enough to drive us to the airport. As we were about to depart his car he said, “What time are you returning so we can be there to pick you up?” I had already sent Joe the itinerary but it was a fair question nonetheless. I said, “Around noon on the 3^rd.” Since Joe's wife had the itinerary on her smart phone, she brought it up on her screen and handed the phone to me. I was a little unsure as to why she was doing this until I happened to notice something regarding our flight times. We weren't arriving on the 3^rd at noon, we were arriving on the 4^th at midnight. Qu'est que c'est? And now light dawns on Marblehead. In my enthusiasm to complete the reservation online, I hadn't noticed that instead of making the reservation with a departing time of 8:40AM I made it at 8:40PM. Since I am too much of a gentlemen to rip off the string of obscenities out loud in front of the ladies that I was thinking, I endured a mental Mt. Vesuvius internally and start our wonderful trip in a foul, black mood all of which left me with no one to blame but myself.

Well, we have an expression in our family that goes, “Things turn out best for those who make the best of how things turn out.” I'd love to tell you that USAir, would allow us to change our reservations to an earlier flight so we wouldn't have to spend 12 hours mesmerized by the human flotsam and jetsam of the Raleigh-Durham airport. They were kind enough to allow us to change for a change fee of $200 per person and a new returning flight charge of $700 each. Since my mother didn't drop me on my head as a kid more than 10 or 12 times, I told the pert and perky young lady on the other end of the phone line that the conversation was over as soon as the last zero of $700 came out of her mouth. So much for the friendly skies. They might be friendly but they definitely aren't cheap.

So is there a caboose on this runaway train of thought, you ask?

There is dear reader.

I found two people at the wedding and subsequently two others in my friendship and relative circle that also booked a flight at one time or another while misremembering that pesky AM or PM thing. Heck, I thought I was the only one and it turns out there's a plethora of AM/PM dunderheads out there. Boy, does that take the pressure off of me. One friend even admitted, although probably not for publication, (so just keep this between us girls), that they booked a flight to the WRONG CITY! They wanted Savannah and booked to Charleston, South Carolina instead. Whoa, I'm feeling better all the time hearing these stories.

Once when hurrying to the airport in San Diego, after a company kick off meeting, the young lady at the counter asked if I had enjoyed my stay in San Diego. I told her I did and she said great because the tickets were dated FOR THE NEXT DAY. I didn’t have to take that one chest high because the company's travel department made those mistaken reservations and I was able to get out that night because space was available for my ample butt, thank God.

Stay tuned for more hilarious hijinks related to misplacing cars in parking lots, locking the keys in the car while the car is still running saga and, the ever popular, trying to remember whether I took that life saving medication.

Like I said, “Things turn out best............”

Until next time...........