Thursday, September 27, 2012

Part 2: Bay Bridge and the parking garage

Still a personal dramatic comedy without professional editing. In that it may be occasionally boorish, or simply has mistakes, you’re on your own.

Continued from previous post; 9.20.2012

... Come on,think. Decision: Abandon the parked vehicle for now and salvage an on-time arrival at the wedding, just around the corner. Find a pedestrian exit. Half flight of stairs down there is a well marked emergency exit. The standard size door’s horizontal bar type opener operates easily (no audible alarm sounds) and the outward swing allows us immediate egress to the sidewalk and Sacramento Street. Once closed from outside, the door is a blank panel. We’re not getting back in that way, now or later. A short walk down Sacramento, back across the cable car tracks, and up to 800 Powell Street. Only about one block total; on-time is still possible.

The dark wood lobby is at the same time elegant and charming. The entry’s attendant is a lady sitting at a smallish wood desk in a bookshelf corner. She politely ignores us to manipulate her iPad while for a moment we arrange ourselves in a pair of armchairs and my wife discreetly changes into her high heels. A few quick steps to the elevator where we are coincidentally greeted and reassured by the wedding coordinator that we will arrive at the fourth floor ballroom in plenty of time to be seated.

The ceremony, wedding party, dark wood accented ballroom, and city view was extraordinary. There was to be about an hour before we’d be served dinner in the dining room. A short distance away, our car remained locked in. Still daylight and with time now to investigate, my wife suggested we quickly back-track to the parking garage -- after a change into her practical street shoes.

No outward clues near the garage door for how to get back in. Searching for a manager’s telephone number, we found some distance away a utilitarian door that had an adjacent control box. Pushing what appeared to be a buzzer button, the door mechanically popped open a few inches. Pulling against the self-closing tension, my wife held it open while I stepped into a maintenance type hallway and stairway space that that climbed up and further into the building. We remained in contact with loud voices echoing from the interior hard surfaces as she kept the door from closing with her shoulder.

A large man sat reading the newspaper. He was behind a table in a room with a glass window out to the hallway where I stood. In front of me, I raised my hands palms out to my shoulder height. Immediately, as he picked up my stare, I spoke for him to hear, “I’m not an intruder.” “I know” was his response. His demeanor was receptive as he stood up listening to my explanation of our locked in dilemma. Almost as an after-thought to the gentleman’s solution for us to get out, he asked, “How long ago did you park?” It had been about an hour.

Again back on the steep Sacramento Street sidewalk, my wife and I watched the large roll up garage door rise. Dashing inside the mostly empty garage to gladly begin driving away from the unsettling circumstances, we noticed the large man standing inside as we threw a sincere thank you out our window in his direction. Now driving, we hoped to quickly re-park the car (somewhere else nearby) and be back in time for the wedding reception dinner -- with just enough extra time for my wife to stop in the lobby to put on her high heels. The lobby entry attendant, at the bookshelf corner desk with an iPad, may recognize us this time.

LIFT (Link I Found Today)
We could often describe ourselves as part of the 53% of Americans. And on occasion, we may over tip too. Never would have thought to ask the US Federal Government for a free cellphone. Hey, are there some free beach houses on Oahu? Just asking.

GIVE ME A MOMENT a lifestyle
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