Archive for August, 2017

Nevermind the Car, where’s the Parking Garage?

Late for a meeting, I duck into the first parking garage I see with vacancies. Downtown is wretched for parking and I didn’t want to waste valuable time hunting for a spot closer to my destination.

Snapped a pic of the location pillar closest to Roo (my car), another at the elevator, and yet another of the sign about the floors of the garage.

When I finally reached the surface – underground parking is not my favorite thing and I had failed to comprehend that I hadn’t taken the elevator to the ground floor of the building – I took in my surroundings, made a mental note of the unattractive building I spotted as I emerged into daylight from the subway, and high-tailed it to my meeting several blocks away; the parking stub safely zipped in my bag.

Meeting over, I retraced my steps towards the parking garage, spotted the subway station entrance and headed unground. It took about 15 seconds to notice that nothing looked quite right.  I’d had a hell of a time finding my way from the elevator to the outdoors in the first place having not chosen my floor of exit very well.

I decided to follow the signs leading to the Garage & Elevator, assuming that would eventually get me where I needed to be. I ended up in a lobby. That totally was not right. But I did spy a pay kiosk which I took to be a good sign. Until it rejected my parking stub, twice. Feeling a little desperate, and tired, and hungry, I took the elevator down to Parking Level A. It was clearly NOT the right garage. The floor was color coded baby blue, instead of navy.

Back to the surface and outside to try again. I walked up and around and still was finding the right identifiers outside, but once underground it was all wrong. Fed up and not caring if I came across as an incompetent idiot, I located the concierge in the lobby and said wearily, as sweat rolled down my face, “I’m a complete idiot and am completely bloody turned around and can’t find the garage.”

One of the young men at the desk took pity on me and indicated to his colleagues that he would lead me to the garage. Having more than a sneaking suspicion that I was indeed in the wrong damn building, I showed him my parking ticket and sure enough, my original interpretation of the situation was correct. I was in the wrong building. Fortunately, the nice young man took pity on me and walked me through the underground connector between the not-right-building and the very-right-building, depositing me in front of the elevator to the garage. I thanked him profusely and said, “Well at least you’ve got a good story to tell about the idiot from WV who lost an entire parking garage.”

chris on August 21st 2017 in Blogroll, Travel

Little Fuzz’s First Flight

There’s an unfinished nest in the wisteria. It’s one column down from a nest stuffed full of baby robins. A pair of cardinals have come to check out the nest multiple times. I think they are interested, but just not sure if it’s worth a mortgage. The gent cardinal spends an inordinate amount of time carrying on nearby. I wonder if he’s trying to convince the Mrs. that it would be a great spot to raise a family. The other day Mr. C landed on my car and practically did a bird version river dance trying not to slide off.

Last night the birds were raising a ruckus. Dashing madly to the front door in case I was needed to scare off a predator, I instead saw a little ball of fuzz sitting awkwardly on the porch swing. It clearly wasn’t a robin; those kids are big and rather homely. Nearby Mrs. C peeped and flapped and fluttered at what, I could only assume, was her kid.

About this time, our cat Nyx finally realized something really very important was going on right outside the front door. She came barreling from the back of the house, plopped herself at my feet and commenced making terrible threats to Mrs. C, the fuzz, and the entire robin family who, quite frankly, were minding their own business.

The fuzz gave a few valiant flaps of its stubby wings, landing on the back of the porch swing. More encouragement ensued from Mrs. C, who took off to the pine tree bird condo, where I assume the family had found a better piece of real estate.

Nyx was still carrying on with her threats, so I shushed her out of the way and shut the big door, in the hopes that the fuzz wouldn’t pick up such dreadful language.

I checked later that night. No fuzz, no frantic parents. All was well.

chris on August 8th 2017 in Animals