Where are my keys???

When a person returns to their home country after a lengthy trip it takes time for them to reacquaint themselves with their once familiar surroundings. During this process, as we are trying to adapt, unexpected blunders may occur. One such blunder occurred to me when I was picking up bus tickets at 7-11. Too lazy to bike to the store, I decided to take the gas guzzling van. Upon my arrival, I pulled into a free parking space, put the van in park, turned off the ignition and opened the door. I did not have a lot of time because I had to be at the University within the hour. In my haste, I locked the door and closed it behind me. A few seconds later, I instinctively felt my pockets to make sure everything was 'there'. Low and behold the keys were missing. I turned around and there they were, laughing at me from the ignition, swinging from side to side.

I entered the store and relayed my story to the Indian clerk. He sympathized with me and my situation, and said that he would have to tow the vehicle if it remained in the lot for more than an hour. Not sure what to do, I ran out to the nearest pay phone (I'm behind the times), inserted a quarter and attempted to dial my mom's work number. Expecting to hear that wonderful ring tone, I heard nothing. I figured that the machine did not accept my quarter so I looked down and found that it wasn't there. Next thing I knew, a voice on the phone was telling me that I still owed another 25 cents! What's this nonsense all about?

Anyway, I fumbled around in my pocket for change only to find that I was 5 cents short. I ran back into the store and asked the clerk if I could use his phone. The nice man let me use it. The familiar ringing tone in my ear brought chills down my spine. The wonderful sound was interrupted by a gritty voice on the other line, the voice mail! I left a quick message relaying my current situation then hung up the phone. Now what???

I decided that I had but one choice; I had to run home, pick up another set of keys, get a bike out of the garage and bike back to the 7-11 within 15 minutes so that I could make it to the University in time for my first class.

Fortune blessed me upon my arrival. I entered the house and immediately found a rusty old pair of van keys sitting on the bench at the front door. I grabbed the keys and headed to the garage, picked up my sister's bike (my bike was missing) and was on my way to 7-11.

In the end, everything worked out. I got in the van, returned the bike to the garage and arrived at the University on time. All was well, but the only thing that remained was a bitter reminder that my bike had been stolen a year ago in downtown Winnipeg.