Today is supposed to be our first ever tropical storm. To celebrate being stuck in the apartment all day during the storm, the kids and I decided to make cookies. And a quick trip to Publix was required for chocolate chips and butter.
By the time we drove the three blocks to the store, it was seriously downpouring. Even with the wipers on full blast, I could hardly see. And my gas light came on. Now I was terrified of running out of gas in the storm.
Ran into the store, got drenched. Found what we needed. Had a nice chat with the guy in line before us--he has a 120 dog and thinks Ivy should take karate. Ran back out to the car in lighter rain. Got the kids buckled in.
Got locked out.
My kids were buckled in their car seats with no chance of getting out, and the keys were happily lying on the passenger seat while all the doors were locked. Geez. Now what?
I called Jeremy. He'd come home to get the spare set and unlock the doors. Don't call the police, he said. He's coming.
So I immediately flagged down a cop who was driving through the parking lot. He called for back up, and before I knew it, there were six police cars, a huge fire truck, and fire rescue. I just made a huge spectacle.
They wedged the front passenger door open with an inflatable pillow. Stuck a stick in there, pushed the button, and viola! Three minutes later, it was like it didn't happen. They hopped in the vehicles and zoomed off to help someone else. I sat there for a minute, embarrassed and wishing I'd have taken pictures.