Sades of blue






A few weeks ago I had an appointment with a new doctor in a complex that can only be described as a small city. I drove around for what seemed like days before I settled on a parking garage that appeared to be close to where I needed to be. I'm parked on level 3-blue. Got it.

I entered the building and proceeded to walk for miles and miles in an underground maze of exam rooms, x-ray, ultrasound, cafeteria, elevators, people, people, and more people. I followed the signs and finally made it to my destination, albeit a little dizzy from all the twist and turns. Three and half hours later, I confidently start following the maze back to my car. I arrive at level 3-blue. I search upper and lower level 3, no car. I do it again, still no car. I walk out of the garage and down the sidewalk a bit. Lo and behold another parking garage, this must be the one....nope.. level 3-orange. Even though I'm certain the color is blue (after-all, I do choose color for a living) I walk up, down, all around just to be sure. I go back to the first garage because seriously... it has to be there. One more time up, down, all around still can not find my ride. I start to question how I got here in the first place..I drove, right?  I take a hard look at the emergency phone and consider using it.  I ask myself, does one not being able to locate ones car qualify as an emergency?  I drove here, right?  I'm on the verge of dramatically throwing myself to the ground in utter frustration (Fuck it.. I'll stay here) when I remember I have a ticket! The ticket will identify the parking structure! I go back into the building through the maze and find the security desk. Hand my ticket over and say "seriously,where is my car?"  He looks at my ticket and causally points to the elevator right behind him  "just press G for garage." he says. I ask "how many parking garages are there?"  Answer. "Five." Seriously Dude?

I take the elevator to the garage level 3-blue, and there sits my car. 

As I slowly walk towards my vehicle, I swear I hear a sarcastic whisper coming from under the hood.  "And you call yourself a designer it's level 3-light blue."







Jesse: Wait a second, let's recap. Last night, we lost my car, we accepted stolen money from a transsexual stripper, and now some space nerds want us to find something we can't pronounce. I hate to say it, Chester, but maybe we need to cut back on the shibbying.
Jesse: Thanks, dude.


Dude, Where's My Car?