About ten days ago my son, Andrew, locked his keys in his truck. He was at home at the time! Just jumped out and locked his keys inside! HAHA! Yesssss. Confirmed: this could happen to anyone ... even someone who is not a female. And no; he did not have a spare truck key in the house. That would have been too easy!
Andrew was obliged to whip out his cell phone, which he wears on his person (had he locked his phone in the truck it would most likely have been necessary to sedate him before withdrawal set in ... I think if it were possible, Andrew would have his phone installed in his body like a pacemaker), and engage the services of a locksmith. Ch-ching!
Our necks swiveled at precisely the same instant, to look at one another, and her eyes were real big and so were mine, and both of our mouths were hanging open.
Audrey was home for a visit so naturally she, Erica, and I waited outside with Andrew for the locksmith to arrive. As I said in a recent post involving the dead possum in our yard, nothing much happens around here so when a situation -- any situation! -- crops up, we all trip over ourselves in a rush to provide moral support. Occasionally we inject copious amounts of sarcasm into the infrastructure of said moral support, but that's to be expected. We could tell Andrew would just as soon have greeted the locksmith all by his onesie but we felt it was our duty to stand by him, our son and bother brother ... so stand by him we did.
And lo, an idea was born!
What happened was, when the locksmith drove up to our house he oh-so-casually, in absolutely the polar opposite of anything that in any context could be mistaken for any kind of hurry by anyone even remotely acquainted with that concept, came to a stop at the curb. He then very carefully set his truck's gearshift to "P" for park, slowly opened his door, and, at a pace that in comparison would make a geriatric snail resemble Roger Bannister on Red Bull, emerged wielding a long flat silver object.
It take-a panache, y'all.
You who are in the know will recognize the silver object as a "slim jim" ... the type of which helpful policemen at one time carried in their squad cars so that they could perform the public service of rescuing hapless vehicular-key-locker-inners. Alas, given the ludicrous legal frivolity that has become the norm in our increasingly litigious society ("Your Honor, Officer Yardbird Helpful is responsible for the presence of this canyon-sized minuscule divot scratch on my car which he inflicted when he was defacing unlocking my door for me and I believe I am owed property damages in the amount of twice what the car is worth, plus punitives not to exceed one million dollars, for my pain and suffering."), those days are unfortunately gone the way of $2.50-per-gallon gasoline.
These days when you lock your keys in the car, you are obliged to make a lightning-swift decision, to wit: "Shall I start walking, stick out my thumb, suck my thumb, break a window, or call a locksmith?" (Depending on the car, breaking a window can be cheaper than calling a locksmith.) Ch-ching!
Swifty the locksmith ambled about ten yards to where Andrew's truck was sitting (we three females helpfully pointed it out to him). He approached the passenger side, slid the slim jim into the space between the door and the window in the vicinity of the lock, and in less than two seconds the door was open. He smiled real big and held out his hand for the $35 check Andrew was hastily scribbling as we females continued to heckle lend moral support.
Ch-ching!
"He must have given him a discount. I paid $60 when it happened to me," Erica offered.
Ch-ching!
Audrey and I had the same idea at the same time. I know this because our necks swiveled at precisely the same instant, to look at one another, and her eyes were real big and so were mine, and both of our mouths were hanging open.
(I will thank you not to snicker. Our mouths are indeed sometimes closed, but not often when we're together because we are either yammering or eating or both. Okay, go ahead and snicker! We don't care.)
The upshot is that Audrey and I, who are both notoriously wary weary of working for a living, have decided to start a mobile car door unlocking business. We have not completely decided on a name but we are arguing about thoughtfully considering either "Babes On Wheels" or "You Lock It, We Pocket" ... your cash, that is!
On the spot, as we waved goodbye to Andrew's money the locksmith, Audrey and I came up with several other ways in which our service will be unique. We've got it all planned out. We will coordinate our outfits so we don't clash and we'll each limit ourselves to one spritz of perfume so as not to overpower one another as we drive all over Columbia and the surrounding areas, bilking helping people. Our bling jewelry will be tasteful, our hair will always be stylish, and we will wear heels no lower than three inches. We want you to be proud of your roving locksmiths.
Naturally, however, our locksmithery will be limited to the use of a slim jim. Yes! We are lazy purists!
When we arrive at the scene of your blunder misfortune we'll each give you a dazzling smile and, depending on your age and gender and whether you have bathed, a big comforting hug. We'll say stuff like, "Awww, yew pore thang! It's not yer fawwlt! Yew were jes' tiyerd! We'll have yew ridin' in a jiffy, darlin'!" If, that is, we can get all that out in the time it takes to saunter over to your car door and unlock it with a hot pink sparkly slim jim. If not we'll keep up the palaver sweet talk while we take all your money accept remuneration for our fine services.
If you need fashion advice or a makeover to get you through the bad day you're having (you know ... the one where you locked your keys in your car and are paying us $2,000 an hour to unlock it), we can do that. We'll bring along cosmetics and hairspray and hot wax, and leave you with all the free advice we can dispense in a minute and a half.
There will be a big cooler full of diet soft drinks for hot days, and on cold days, hot chocolate and coffee. If your stupidity bad luck happens in the morning, we'll give you a Danish with your beverage. In the afternoons we'll have muffins for you that Audrey has churlishly thoughtfully baked the night before. Or that we picked up at Kroger.
Of course we will accept cash and all major credit cards. Debit too. No checks. In rare circumstances we will accept loose diamonds as long as the following criteria are met: (a) the stone(s) is/are at least one carat total weight and high in quality; (b) the stone(s) is/are registered, certified, and has/have been recently appraised; and (c) the stone(s) is/are not hot.
Coming soon to a neighborhood near you: chick locksmiths. Chicksmiths, LLC ... that's it! That's the one!
Ch-ching ...
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Thursday, June 5, 2008 at 10:44PM 
On June 6, 1944, nearly 200,000 Allied troops -- the largest invasion force in human history -- stormed the beaches at Normandy, France, to free Europe from German Nazi occupation. By the end of that day over 10,000 American, British, and Canadian soldiers had been killed, wounded, or captured. I wish I had the eloquence to say what is in my heart when I think about what that must have been like for all of them, and for their families. I can't because it's too enormous, so I will say only two things: