Thanksgiving-delayed post

I’m thankful Mabel has left me her car. I’m not thankful that I’m an idiot! After driving around Culiacán (don’t worry, she left me with an empty tank so I filled her up) to see if I could orient myself (I get all turned around on the bus and when I ride with Mabel we never go the same way twice!)-and I could- I went to Forum to email/chat a bit and enter a few blogs about Juan Show last night and about today (Thanksgiving). It was approaching darkish (5:30) and I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself (my license is still in the Frida Kahlo museum in DF), so I fastened my broken seatbelt as well as it would fasten rigged up to the parking brake, and I turned on my lights. I was very proud of my orientation about Culiacán and pulled into the free parking at Forum. I trkked it to the Food Court where the Italian Coffee place’s password works for weeks at a time. I bought a frappucino earlier this week, so no purchases have been necessary the other days. In the States, I would onbject to this. What is that called: situational ethics or in my case morals?
Oh, well.
So I came out at 9 after a chat with Mom and Ashley, a blog entry, a few emails, and a peek on facebook. I started that car. Only it didn’t start. Last time I tried to start Mabel’s car, there was something funny about which gear it had to be in, so I tried all of them, even reverse. Panic swept over my entire body and hten I got into Laura mode. Mabel had JUST given me Papá Jaime’s house and cell numbers this afternoon. Knowing he was at his confersnce, I didn’t want to try his cell until necessary; I called the house, praying for Maricela to answer.
She did, rather groggily. It was only 8, but we were out late last night and she likely had to take Alma to the airport early this am.
“No worries, Laura. Sit tight (as if I had anywhere to go), and I’ll be right there.”
She hung up without getting my number. Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Fifteen.
I decided that the 30 minute mark would justify a second call- just to make sure she hadn’t accidentally fallen back asleep.
After 35 minutes, I was playing with my phone going through my list of contacts just to see who I could’ve contacted if I hadn’t gotten the number from Mabel today. There were several options: a neighbor, Alma (Shania’s friend, not the sister), some people in the English department. I went through my list of placed calls and found a number from yesterday I didn’t recognize…
Maricela! It was from Mabel’s call to see where they were last night.
I sent her a text reiterating where I was (since she was so drowsy when I called) and letting her know my cell number. She called a few seconds later saying that the jumping cables (I knew what she was saying, but the words left my brain immediately) were in the Chevy which Papá had at his conference, but that he was on his way (how many times have I heard that phrase!) and they would be there as soon as possible. Feeling much better having established contact again, I got out my computer and started typing this entry into a Word document. My brain then started playing games with me that maybe it wasn’t the battery. Sure, I’d left the lights on, but what if that only triggered a much bigger problem? Ay, ay, ay! They showed up almost right at that moment.
Papá asked me all the right questions and then tried to start it himself. Then he told us that he thinks the alternator needs replacing (though I think everyone is generally a fan of use it til it breaks) and has told Mabel that multiple times, so maybe that was it.
He and Maricela and I rolled the car through the relatively packed parking lot to an empty space where there was also room for his car in front. He and Maricela orchestrated the symphony (pardon the metaphor but it was music to my ears; and now pardon the pun). Papá Jaime then gave a lesson to both of us on how it is to be done. Neither of us really knew, so we were good listeners. He said he’s had the cables for at least ten years and never used them. I joked, “Until Laura came.” They both laughed, but I still felt terrible. “Now we see that they work, Laura,” Maricela tried her best to put me at ease. Can’t be done.
Here I am the damsel in distress (look for another entry with that title about the gas man…I hate that role!), imposing on their night. I know that my family would help Yuri if she needed anything at any hour if they were near Nashville. I know that my friends will do that if need be.
I still feel terrible.
But I have their numbers, and if anything happens, I know to call them.