Adventures in Parking

(August 6, 2003; just a wee one)

They leave the theatre arm-in-arm, but this lasts only a moment - she breaks free and leaps ahead, bounding out into the construction rubble that surrounds the building. Movies make her heart pound, blood burning in her veins, as if she has absorbed so much adrenaline from those around her that, like a sponge filled to capacity, it must leak out again. He laughs, knowing her foibles well, and follows her around to the front parking lot.

She dashes down the first row, leading him around and between the lines of cars, both of them glancing about for the flash of green that is her car. They walk the entire length of the lot, but see it nowhere; twirling on a toe, she giggles and wanders back the way they came. He strains, but sees nothing familiar - they make another circuit, but still cannot find it. She suggests that perhaps it has been stolen, laughing aloud at the thought, toying with the keys in her hand as she imagines telling her mother that her car has run away. He fears for his clothing, locked in her trunk, and she finds this hilarious: "The clothes that are worth 1/50 the value of the car? Those clothes?" "Without them, this is my only shirt!" She prances, grabbing his hands and spinning him in a circle amid the Neons and Echoes.

Finally, they reach the far end for the third time, and she says, "Okay. You go that way and I'll go this, and we'll corral it!" He points out the lack of logic in this plan, but she is heedless; grinning, he vanishes behind a row, and she heads for the section nearest the theatre. Three rows closer, she sees the car, and feels hysteria welling up - it is two cars away from the entrance, essentially as near the doors as a car can be, and they have walked the long way around it every time. Bursting into laughter, she calls his name, gesturing at the car dramatically: one arm pointed straight at it, the other spinning around, as if she strummed an air guitar - or an air cello. As he spots her, she hops onto the trunk, wrapping her arms about the back window and feeling the damp cold of dew on the glass against her nipples, almost manic in her unbound energy.

"We parked close."
"Let's never tell anyone about this, ever."

She lets him inside and starts the engine, still exhultant with the foolish epic, the adventure that is created when the simplest of joys is appreciated. Turning to face him, speeding down the freeway, she grins like a cheshire cat, knowing that she will tell everyone about this, no matter what she said.