My neighbor, Marsha (not her real name), who is always out doing something, was taking an Italian class the other night and she “lost” her car. She couldn’t remember where she parked it somewhere in downtown Miami.
She ended up taking an Uber home that night.
The next morning, she asked if I could take her back to the college area where the class was and see if we can find the car. Downtown is only two miles from where we live, so it was no big deal, except for the fact that it was downtown and a traffic mess.
She told me she couldn’t remember if she parked in a lot or on the street, we would have to just park near the college and wander the streets until we spotted the car – a daunting task.
So, we headed out. Downtown was a mess as usual. Lots of traffic and rude drivers cutting in and out of traffic. Since things were so backed up, it was easy to search the streets since we were barely moving. But we couldn’t find the car. Was it towed?
We circled the area for quite a while and then proceeded to look for parking so we could get out and start walking around the blocks to search the blocks.
It was impossible to find street parking, so I parked in a random parking lot we passed along the route. There was no attendant.
We got out and Marsha went up to a City of Miami truck that was in the lot and started telling the guy in the truck her problem. I don’t know why, because he didn’t appear to work in the lot, but he did have a City of Miami emblem on his truck. He didn’t seem to be interested in much but he kept telling us to pay for parking, which I assumed was a meter since there was no attendant.
The guy in the truck was polite enough to listen, but I don’t think he knew what to suggest. The night before, Marsha went to a police station and told them her story, they didn’t seem to care or have a solution either, and then she told her story to her Uber driver, who was nice enough to drive her around, but no luck, so she just came home.
Marsha talked to the guy in the truck in the lot for a bit and I finally, said, “Let’s go and start searching.”
As we were about to start walking the streets, looking for the car, Marsha says, “There’s my car!”
“Where?” I asked.
“Right there!” I was standing in front of it. It literally was parked right next to where I parked my car.
When Marsha originally got out of my car, she had to be careful as to not hit my car door into the car next to me, which was her car! Yet neither of us noticed the car right in front our our eyes!
We both started cracking up over the whole situation. Of all the parking lots in in the city of Miami, I had picked that lot and parked right next to her car. I guess I should thank St. Anthony for leading us right to the “lost” car. St. Anthony is the patron saint of lost items.
The interesting part is that when we entered the lot, I didn’t just take the first empty spot, I drove around for a bit and then chose a random spot, and I guess we were meant to park right in that random spot – right next to Marsha’s car.
As we drove off, the guy from the City of Miami truck kept yelling over at us to pay for both parking spaces, only I ignored him since he had a leaf blower in his hand and he had nothing to do with the parking lot – he was clearing leaves for the city, and knew nothing about anything having to do with the lot. He ended up being a maintenance man for the city – not a parking lot attendant.
Marsha and I went for coffee after that. In separate cars.
I told her I wrote this blog story in my head as I drove. It sort of wrote itself.
Till next time . . .
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