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Lalalalalalala...I can't HEAR you!

Friday, July 21, 2006

Not all mimes are bad

Yesterday must have been my lucky day. Well, except for the part where I left work early, spent an hour wandering around Winco, selecting a random assortment of groceries, standing in line and then remembering, as the last item was rung, that they don't take credit cards. Which, of course, was all I had on me. Fuck.

So, after spending another 30 minutes or so at Foods Co, which thankfully does take credit, I decided to take a quick pass through the Red Carpet Ride and Shine. $4.99 for a pretty decent, fairly quick, wash & dry? Can't beat it with a stick.

And my car was hideously filthy. I park basically butted up to a field of dry-ass dirt every day at work. And for the past few weeks at least, the field has been occupied by a few hundred sheep (wth did they come from?). My car looks like I've driven through a dust-bowl on a regular basis. I don't get too uppity about washing it because, really, why bother? It's going to be filthy again by tonight, watch. But, honestly, I couldn't hardly see out the windows anymore, so there you go.

So, I ride through the quicky wash, eating a Twix bar on the DL (damn my diet all to hell). When I get to the end part, the little teenie-bopper-candy-striper-look-a-like girls come out with their towels and air blowers and commence to drying the car. One girl goes to pull up my driver's side windshield wiper to presumably dry underneath it and the friggen thing comes off in her hand! Just the blade, not the whole wiper arm or anything. I see the panic in her eyes through the windshield, but I'm not overly freaked out at this point.

She tries to put it back on, to no avail. So she calls over some random guy who is stooping down on the other side of the car wash working on(?) some equipment. He tries to fix it, to no avail. When my car finally reaches the end of the conveyor, they motion for me to pull forward a little, then stop. So I do. The random guy gets a supervisor-woman to come over and look. I know she's a supervisor cause her shirt says so. She motions for me to just "hold on" and goes over to the side and calls someone from the big phone on a stick standing in the corner. Then she motions for me to follow her.

Out of the wash and around the corner we go, with me following her in my car at 2 miles an hour like she's walking the Hondaloosa on a leash. Park right here and wait, she pantomimes. So I do.

Out comes handy-guy, who also tries to fix the wiper, to no avail. Be right back, says the new mime. When he comes back he has a brand new wiper blade for me. It took several attempts to get it on securely after which it took me several attempts to "get it" when he pantomimed the command to turn on my wipers to make sure they work. But, I eventually figured it out. And they worked. I was secretly hoping that he would just replace the other one too, because these things come in 2-packs, no? But, alas, that did not happen. It was all too clear when he picked up the old wiper and empty packaging and motioned a little good-bye wave.

This was a lucky turn of events for me because my wiper blade needed changing badly and my Honda probably forced it off in a desperate attempt for attention. I just couldn't stop laughing at how the entire exchange took place without a word between me and my benefactors.

Of course, I was talking to myself in the car to combat the deafening silence. I'm just saying.

posted by *******DIANE******* @ 12:17 PM

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