So I feel pretty good today, and I figure that I'll go to McDonald's and see if I can get some more gift certificates or something. I make the two minute drive over and pull into a spot. I turn the radio off, put the car in park, put the parking brake on...and then get out of the car and lock the door, with my key still in the ignition. With the car STILL ON. Cue the violent screaming.

I try to open the car with other keys I've got on me and check if one of the doors is unlocked, but nothing works. So I jog back to the office and start freaking out. When my car broke down last summer on the way to work (not my fault, that one), I took it to a car repair shop right next to my office. The guy there seemed pretty nice, so I ran over to see if he could help me out. He said he could lend me a "slim jim", the thing you slide into the door to try to get the door to unlock, but if the car doesn't have power locks (which my Stone Age Oldsmobile does not) it's excruciatingly difficult to open. So, I walked back to the office and went to the plan of last resort... I called my mother at work.

To say she was unhappy would be calling the Sahara Desert a little parched. To say she was upset would be calling Siberia a tad bit chilly. I spent the next 45 minutes waiting outside the building for her to get there, then 5 minutes of extreme wrath as we're driving back to McDonald's. I get out, use the spare set of keys to open my car up, and hand the spares back to my mother. She sped off without saying another word, and is probably planning my ritual demise as I type this.

I am never, ever, EVER going to that McDonald's again, and I may just start skipping my lunch break altogether. Who the FUCK did I piss off to deserve this??

See:
RimRod Goes to McDonald's (Part 1)
RimRod Returns to McDonald's (Part 2)
RimRod Loses the McDonald's Curse (Part 4)