My last post was “Why I am Unsuccessful,” where I described recognizing failure and moving on. I have another story I would like to share. It described another way in which I was unsuccessful this month and how I dealt with the situation. It will give a more complete picture of how my weekend went and how I handle stress. For better or for worse.
I struggled with the decision to drive the 3 hours to Leonard Lake Reserve on Sunday for my friends wedding party. Let’s be honest, I struggle with most decisions. In this particular case, the ceremony had already been held and I knew that a large group of gleeful hung over ladies and gentlemen, many of whom I did not know, awaited me at the Lake. Receiving this post from Danielle LaPorte’s blog, pushed me over the edge. Fine, I would commit, I would make the drive. If nothing else, it would be a mini-grand adventure by myself. Road trip!
I work up at 5:30am in Palo Alto, drove to my house in San Francisco to change and then jumped on the 101 going North. It is a beautiful thing to leave the foggy parts of the Bay Area. California’s landscape always blows me away and it’s a treat to wind over the Golden Gate Bridge, through the rainbow tunnel and into Marin’s sunnier parts. Cruising through wine country, I stopped in Healdsburg at Flying Goat Coffee for a break. I typed away on my computer at their counter while sipping a chai, feeling for a moment that this might be what it’s like to be a location independent writer on vacation. The trip was already worth it, watching the fog fall away to golden California hills and a bright blue sky.
The directions were simple enough, I made a left off the 101 onto Reeves Canyon Road and began the 12 miles of bumpy dirt road. Yay mini adventure! I have traveled a few dirt roads in the middle of no where by myself. I haven’t traveled so many that I don’t think twice about it. There is a different air about these things, as I strike out on my own.
I took the long solo drive as an opportunity to listen to some podcasts. Srini Rao from BlogcastFM and Dan Andrews from Tropical MBA accompanied me on my journey, and their voices didn’t fade as I veered off the main road and into the quiet forest of Redwood Valley. It was early enough that I felt relaxed about timing, imagining that I would stop somewhere along the way to take a dip in a stream or nap or read on a patch of grass if I found an inspiring spot. I rolled over baby bridges, through shadowy patches, and kicked up plenty of dust behind me. Eventually all the bumps in the road got to my bladder, as was I tanked up on water and coffee. I pulled over near a random gate and decided it was time for a pee and stretch break.
I stepped out of the car and breathed in the warm oak smell. I love the dry heat here. I pulled off my jean shorts and slipped into a flowery dress, changing into something a bit more festive. I picked a strategic spot in the bushes, held up my dress and peed in the woods. Ah! Satisfaction. The sun streamed through the tree branches, I could hear birds singing, and here I was, alone in the woods.
I plopped back into the drivers seat, imagining that the lake was waiting for me. I was ready for a swim. I sat for a minute, glancing around me. My dress has no pockets and I was empty handed. Oh yes, the key! It was in my jean shorts somewhere in the chaos of the back seat. I stepped out, allowing the door to swing shut, and reached for the rear door handle. I pulled. Nothing happened.
This can’t be happening.
I pulled again. The door did not open. I frantically pulled on the front door. It was undoubtably locked. I pulled anyway. No. No. No! The plays over and over in my head, holding my hands up, scanning the seat around me, “where is the key?” I ask myself sitting in the front seat. I open the door with my left hand, that damn stupid lock button right beneath the door handle! Why do they put that there!? WHY!? As I opened the door, the weight of the side of my hand went down on the lock button and in one brief moment, everything seemed to change. There I stood, in the middle of the beautiful, calm woods, in a flowery dress and flip flops.
There was no cell phone reception for 6 miles, and I didn’t have my phone on me, so that was out. I was in the middle of the woods with nothing. I panicked briefly, my breathing became rapid and shallow. I paced back and forth and put my hands on my head again, covering my face. “Of course this is happening!” I thought, ready to cry. Should I cry? Do I laugh? What is happening right now? I pulled on the car door several more times and peered through the windows, attempting a sighting of the key. Not that it would have made any difference. Maybe I dropped it on the ground while I was peeing? I scoured the premises, finding nothing.
Now, apparently with most Prius keys, they advertise that you can’t lock yourself out because there is a proximity mechanism that detects the key. My brother’s Prius key happens to be broken. As he handed me this key, he joked “Don’t lock yourself out!” You literally need manually to take the metal key out of the electric part and physically unlock the door to get it. Then you put the key back together and put it in the ignition port. This is another broken record that played over and over in my head as I tried to figure out what to do. The key is in the car. There is no unlocking the car.
I came to the conclusion that I had 2 choices. I could walk the rest of the way to Leonard Lake and use the land line (!!) to call a locksmith and see how much it would cost for them to find me out here. Or I could break one of the rear windows and merrily continue on my way. My roommate had recently had her car broken into and she told me it costed less than $200 to have the window fixed. The way I did the math, breaking the window might be the cheaper and easier solution. That minus the time and stress of having to get the car fixed. Damn.
To Be Continued…