Lubrication

So here I am, at 1:30 in the morning locked outside of Tasty Cakes, my car that reminds many of the 80's pop icon, Night Rider. I had just visited my friend J from out of town and he'd gone to sleep inside his cozy resort casita. It's 76 degrees in Paradise Valley, and the central Phoenix mountains visibly surround me as the glow of the city back lights their monumental silhouettes.

I tug forcibly on the handle, and the door doesn't budge. This time, the door isn't just stuck, it's actually locked, and the keys are chilling on the floor mat. Like a chimpanzee, I search around for a poking tool to use so I can press the button to release the latch. "Hmm... I need a fork, or a knife, or a branch, wire hanger... something!" After mulling around in the desert landscaping, I remember that resorts don't have things like that lying around. "Hmmm... ok, think BP, think... what else could I do?" Looking over, I notice my window is cracked open.

Stretching and straining my hand past the slit, my forearm gets caught, and I pull it back out with a loud *pop*. "Ok, that didn't work... well, maybe if I can find a stick, or a spoon, some chopsticks, or a light saber, I can push that button to unlatch the lock," at which point, I look around in the same vicinity again, and come to the previous realization that there still isn't anything around. "D'oh!"

"Ok, think, BP, think. Be creative here. I need to open this door, there are no poking tools around, and the window is partly cracked, but my arm won't fit through the crack." A light goes on over my head. "Oh yeah, I know what will work! I'm so smart!" I reach into my blue backpack, searching for the holy grail of the medical field... KY Jelly...

... ... ... Guess what happened?... ... ...

In my altered attempt at tackling the beastly car, I slather on enough lubrication to cover my right arm that I could've assisted in a horse birth. "Ok, on the count of three," I tell myself, "One! Two! Three!" My arm slides through the crevice up to the elbow *thunk*, my elbow goes past, and into the car. I rejoice, "Woo-hoo!!!!"

Promptly finding and pressing the lock button, the doors magically unlock, and I open the outside handle with my left hand. Triumphantly nodding to myself, I remark, "Score one for BP." The door opens, and I move with it... at which point I notice that my arm is still stuck between the door frame and the electric window. I smack my forehead with my free hand, letting out another, "D'oh!"

"Ok, think, BP, be creative..." Another light bulb goes on. Reaching over the door with my left arm, I go for the keys... my arm's not long enough. Under the door with my feet, my leg's not flexible enough. Around the door with my arms and feet - my body's not made out of enough rubber bands. Hmmm...

After standing there with the door open, keys on the car floor, and my arm turning blue from the scissored pressure, I remember that I have my cel phone with me, and fish it from my pocket. Hands still slick from the tube of lube, I get a grip on my phone by squeezing it. Inadvertently, my greasy hands press 'last call return', which starts ringing a mortal enemy of mine. I realize whats happening and squeeze to hang up. For some vague reason, the phone flies out of my waxy grip and onto the pavement a few feet away. Among other obscenities, I shout "MOTHER LOVER!!!!" as my enemy picks up the phone, and quickly hangs up, not knowing why, at such a late hour, someone would call simply to curse at them. It beats me.

Maneuvering my body, and stretching with the aid of Saint Gumby, I get the mini-phone on my shoe toe. With the care of a tight-rope walker, I get it back in my hand, and dial J, whom I'd just seen 45 minutes ago. "Hey J, can you come out here and help me?" "Yeah, what's up BP?" "Um... can you just come outside and help me real fast?" "Ok, let me get dressed."

J enters the scene. Looking at my car, then at me, J's eyebrows lift, and he says smugly, "So, what seems to be the problem?" "Oh, Tasty Cakes just decided to become a carnivorous automobile. Jeezy creezy, J, my arm's stuck! Come over here and help me out. Get in my car and get my keys, please!" J gets in the drivers seat, and after looking around, starts laughing, "Oh, I can't find your keys, BP. I think they must be outside somewhere." "They're right there on the floor! Get them!" J finds the keys, "Hey, BP, I can't figure out how to turn on your car." "It's right there on the steering column, J! Here, let me do it!" I shut the door, and follow suit, grabbing the keys, turn on the car and push the button for the window. My arm becomes unleashed. "Thanks, J, you've been a real pal, now I need to go home."

After a slippery jelly enhanced steering wheel drive home, my arm hurt, and I knew I was going to get a mammoth bruise. I had learned a few weeks earlier that if you put toothpaste where a bruise should develop, it won't develop. Don't ask. So, I cover my arm for the second time that night in a foreign goo. Sleep comes quickly.

Heading to the bathroom in the morning to brush my teeth, I look in the mirror and there's no bruise on my arm... however... there's tons of toothpaste on my face. Brushing was a little easier than normal tho.

For the record... I now have an extra set of car keys... everywhere...