Like any young adult starting a new life in a new city, time with family comes few and far between. And on a recent weekend away from the city, I awoke on a high and that Sunday sun rose for me.
I planned to make every remaining minute count because tomorrow is Monday and on this particular weekend, I had already ramped the heck out of a jet ski, eaten an entire bowl of guacamole, and celebrated the wedding of two close friends— AND my dad was about to make blueberry pancakes. No one was going to rain on my parade, baby. We even listened to that Barbra Streisand song on the two-hour drive back to Indianapolis.
Then we pulled into our apartment complex and shortly thereafter noticed my little blue car was no longer parked where she stood just two days prior. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen. She was gone, and either she had been stolen (it’s happened before) or that mean-faced tow truck has taken her away again.
Now, in this moment, I must make the first of two embarrassing confessions: while everything was sunshine and roses throughout this weekender, afternoon splitting headaches in the absence of a coffee pot at my father’s house after relying on coffee every morning for nearly six months straight unfortunately made me aware that I am legitimately addicted to caffeine.
And during this afternoon car-towing incident, my unexpected caffeine withdrawal shook hands with an idled-temper (that I didn’t even know existed) and the chemical mix-up began to slowly and silently boil until my sweet-natured boyfriend could see the steam, for which he finally asked that balloon-bursting question– “Are you okay?”
That’s when I exploded with clenched fists and stomping feet in a fit and fiery rage so that he could properly see that I was effected, and that the tow truck surely did rain on my G.D. parade!
For the second embarrassing confession: I didn’t let surprise Temper Witch stop there. Oh no, and less than five minutes later, I spewed shouty verbiage all over a man in a towing office who was holding my car hostage. Though in all fairness, he was innocent and just wanted me to pay the 150 bucks and stop raining on his own parade.
I had become a loose cannon and on the silent walk to my imprisoned car to retrieve my registration, my internal voice of reason spoke self-awareness to my illogical rage in an accusatory, but soothing tone: “You’re being a selfish bitch.”
As tears of embarrassment began to stream down my face when I drove out of the lot, I was reminded that it’s just a stupid car, albeit a car that has had her fair share of struggles including a gunshot wound on her hood, but it’s just a car. Yet also, that same voice of reason reminded me that there are some incredibly valuable lessons to learn here about anger and humility, which surely lie on opposite ends of some emotional spectrum somewhere.
Anger grows very naturally from arrogance and on that day, while I spent an entire weekend riding high thanks to the sun continually rising for me, I felt way too important to go through these measures of abiding by laws and then ultimately retrieving my car. I think at one point I admitted to feeling as though I deserved grace (which is an exact sentiment for which no one deserves grace). I was also very quick to let this man at the towing company know that I didn’t deserve what they were doing to me, to which he proved with a photo of my missing parking pass that I did this to myself and no one is above such policies. Even those parked on Cloud 9 will be towed if the pass is not properly displayed.
I’m not above parking policies, but I am above that person who thought she was more important only to unleash this notion on a complete stranger. But, on top of this, I also needed to understand that rain during a happiness parade is only temporary, and therefore, this silly little incident did not ruin the weekend’s delightful adventures. That shining sun still rose each morning, and it would happen again the next day.
And for the next set of adventures, while that car will be safely left behind with her parking pass proudly displayed, there’s one thing we won’t be leaving without: coffee.