The Pirates Have My Car

Last night Logan, Joe and I went to a concert in Stuart. Let me tell you, it’s easy to be positive when you’re surrounded by a bunch of friends and people drunkenly dancing to covers of Purple Rain and Forget You. Unless of course you don’t like Prince and Cee Lo.

The next day (as always) is a little more tricky. Logan went to bring me back to my car, since we so responsibly took a taxi home (the taxi driver liked us so much he did it for free). Somehow in the course of half a day though, the entire downtown Stuart had been completely closed off for something called “Pirate-fest”. Really Florida? Pirate-fest?

Logan had to go to work so I had to drive him and take his car to investigate. As I drop him off he mentions not having very much gas (roughly none). Fine. I get to the gas station across the street and I don’t know his zip code to use his card. Normally by now my reaction would be a crazy amount of frustration tears that would cause a scene in the lot of Sunoco. Instead of doing that I took a deep breath and walked in, only to find that the guy was more than willing to accept my line about the credit card belonging to my boyfriend, and also that this particular gas station appears to be a gluten-free mecca. An entire aisle had every gluten-free product I’ve seen in all the surrounding grocery stores, combined. Not only that, but there’s a Mediterranean restaurant in the back with plenty of gf options. Right on.

OK, but I still didn’t know the fate of my car. I headed over to the festival and literally shout “NO WAY!” when I spot my car–frightening a small group of children with face-paint next to me. Now, how do I get my car past the ginormous inflatable bounce house? I go up to the thin Italian boy handing out the tickets and told him the story. He laughed and said they had tried to find me, but I wasn’t an any of the surrounding restaurants (I’m starting to love small towns). I’m directed to the owner, decked out in a full pirate captain’s outfit. He actually apologizes for blocking me in and doesn’t seem to understand why I keep using the words “ecstatic” and “shocked”. He let’s me know I can come get my car tomorrow at 9pm, and we shake on it. Then I surprised myself by hugging him. I hugged the big bouncy house pirate man.

The day ended up being really hilarious to me instead one of hung-over frustration. What’s more, I feel proud of myself for handling life’s difficulties with a sense of humor, leading to a chain reaction of good feelings.

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3 responses to “The Pirates Have My Car

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