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Hay’s Daze: Be very careful in parking lots at night

So last week I learned you should really try not to fall on the stairs, even when you are going up instead of down those stairs. A few short days after learning that, I accidentally learned how easy it is to almost end up in big trouble.
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So last week I learned you should really try not to fall on the stairs, even when you are going up instead of down those stairs. A few short days after learning that, I accidentally learned how easy it is to almost end up in big trouble.

It started out innocent enough. My buddy Dave calls and says, “Hey let’s go out for a beer and grab some supper,” and I say, “Sure, I never turn down a beer if I can help it.” Thing is, it’s a Friday night and both of us had forgotten to remember this old town is a lot bigger and busier than it used to be when you could just pop into a popular place without having to stand in line for 20 minutes.

So we drive over to a popular place and we can’t even find a place to park, and I say I’ll just hop out and go in and see how bad the lineup is, and Dave says he’ll just drive around the parking lot until I come back out and give him a “Go” or “No Go” signal.

Dave drives off into the cold dark night in his Jeep Cherokee and I shuffle through the snow to the restaurant. It’s packed. Like, 45 minute-wait packed. So I shuffle back out, hoping that Dave isn’t at the far end of the parking lot which is the size of a football field and then I see headlight beams coming slowly towards me down at the end of the centre aisle.

I see that it’s a Jeep all right and I clomp towards the lights and sort of get a little silly as I am wont to do and I perform a little dance as I’m walking in front of the approaching car – giving some dramatic ‘thumbs down’ moves and the universal gesture of slashing at your throat with your hand to indicate “cut!”, as in “fuggetaboutit!”

But he doesn’t seem to be stopping and I realize he’s messing with me as usual and so I put my hands out in front of me like a traffic cop and give him the universal signal to stop and when he finally does, right smack in front of me, I shout something hilarious at him and scurry to the side of the car and reach for the door handle. Dave lurches ahead, one centimetre before I grab the handle. Haha, I think. This little game – he’s going to lurch every time I reach. So I yell: “You dipstick!” and I lunge.

I hear a big click. He’s locked the door. So I’m rattling on the door handle and it’s freezing cold out and I realize the car is actually starting to move ahead with me attached to the door handle.

“Very funny, you meathead!” I shout… and this is where it gets interesting. In the dark I notice a couple of things. One: the Jeep is red. Dave’s Jeep is green. Two: The person sitting in the driver’s seat is a terrified looking older man. Dave is generally neither terrified nor old.

So I let go of the door handle like it was on fire and the driver makes some sort of universal gesture at me and speeds off, tires spitting snow all over me. And that’s when I see Dave’s actual Jeep coming around the corner.

I jump into the (correct) car and quickly slump down, looking mortifyingly sheepish. Dave shakes his head. “What did you do this time?”

“Boot it,” I say. “And don’t look back.”

Harley Hay is a Red Deer writer and filmmaker.