noelleprice (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} noelleprice) wrote,@ 2006-09-20 18:05:00 |
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Dumb Things I Did on My Trip
Those of you who knew me in Santa Barbara may be familiar with my "dumbest smart people/smartest dumb people" club. To be invited into membership, one must have demonstrated, in spite of being generally acknowledged as a reasonably functional and even fairly intelligent person on the whole, a history of consistent and egregious moments of inattention leading to embarrassing and occasionally potentially dangerous outcomes. The requirements of membership are that one is to call other members upon recognition of the occurrence of a noteworthy instance of the above. The benefits of membership are the receiving, and also the making, of said calls, which create many opportunities for mildly painful laughter, particularly at oneself.
In the spirit of the dsp/sdp club, here is a run-down of this aspect of my trip. Any consistently smart people who actually have their acts together who are inadvertently reading this may kindly proceed to the next blog entry. Any parents reading this entry should remember that on the whole you raised a lovely person who most people seem to like okay, despite her mental deformities which are no reflection on you. =)
Hattiesburg, MS: I have to stop at an urgent care center because of severe pains in my leg. After a cursory (and admittedly quixotic) search of my accordion file for my insurance cards, I walk up to the window armed only with my passport. Don't ask why not my driver's license... I think it's in a shed in Upland, CA. Maybe. Anyway, they were kind enough to see me anyway. They sent me to the hospital to rule out a blood clot. I got lost on the way and was bumped from the order in radiology. Waited three hours.
Mt. Juliet, TN: Went to fill my prescription in the walgreens. Sitting in the parking lot, ordered new health cards and updated my address to Slidell. So proud of myself. Until after all that I discovered that I did in fact have my health cards in the accordion file! They were still folded into the paper they were attached to for mailing purposes. Well, okay - bad that I didn't know I had them, but good that I tried to replace them when I thought I _didn't_ have them, and also good that I have them now, so I can give them to the people to fill my prescription. So pleased was I that I got out of my truck to go inside and promptly locked my keys in the truck. This is something I rarely do... I only do it when I do something in between turning off my truck and getting out, which I generally don't do for precisely this reason. Ironically, the thing that sank me this time was trying to be responsible and call the insurance people to have them send me cards it turns out I had. While waiting for my prescription to be filled I wandered through walgreens calling through my list of friends who have AAA... the third one I called answered and gave me the number to call. Here's where luck turns my way... since I was calling to be let into my truck, when they asked me whether I had my card, it was entirely believable that I could neither confirm nor deny that I had my AAA card on my person... I mean, fair enough to say that if I had it it would be in my truck somewhere... Thankfully, the locksmith had just come back from helping with relief work in the Gulf area, and he could have cared less if I had a card or not.
Nashville, TN, 5 days later: Realized I hadn't made a mental note of where I left my truck in long-term parking... which extends for a mile or so. Fortunately, the shuttle winds in and out, and my truck actually called out to me when it saw me passing. It's a good thing it hadn't decided to give me the silent treatment.
Chattanooga, TN, next day: It occurred to me that while I had made an intentional last trip back to Vee's studio in Nashville to make sure I hadn't left anything there, like a toothbrush or shampoo or my cell phone or something, I had no concrete memory of actually putting my guitar in the truck. Sinking feeling - pulled off at gas station. Turns out there was a reason I had no memory of this event, in that it did not in fact take place. I can't bear to tell you how far Chattanooga is from Nashville. You can look it up if you want. Fortunately, it's pretty country. Unfortunately, one whole round trip was in the dark.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I roll.
Those of you who knew me in Santa Barbara may be familiar with my "dumbest smart people/smartest dumb people" club. To be invited into membership, one must have demonstrated, in spite of being generally acknowledged as a reasonably functional and even fairly intelligent person on the whole, a history of consistent and egregious moments of inattention leading to embarrassing and occasionally potentially dangerous outcomes. The requirements of membership are that one is to call other members upon recognition of the occurrence of a noteworthy instance of the above. The benefits of membership are the receiving, and also the making, of said calls, which create many opportunities for mildly painful laughter, particularly at oneself.
In the spirit of the dsp/sdp club, here is a run-down of this aspect of my trip. Any consistently smart people who actually have their acts together who are inadvertently reading this may kindly proceed to the next blog entry. Any parents reading this entry should remember that on the whole you raised a lovely person who most people seem to like okay, despite her mental deformities which are no reflection on you. =)
Hattiesburg, MS: I have to stop at an urgent care center because of severe pains in my leg. After a cursory (and admittedly quixotic) search of my accordion file for my insurance cards, I walk up to the window armed only with my passport. Don't ask why not my driver's license... I think it's in a shed in Upland, CA. Maybe. Anyway, they were kind enough to see me anyway. They sent me to the hospital to rule out a blood clot. I got lost on the way and was bumped from the order in radiology. Waited three hours.
Mt. Juliet, TN: Went to fill my prescription in the walgreens. Sitting in the parking lot, ordered new health cards and updated my address to Slidell. So proud of myself. Until after all that I discovered that I did in fact have my health cards in the accordion file! They were still folded into the paper they were attached to for mailing purposes. Well, okay - bad that I didn't know I had them, but good that I tried to replace them when I thought I _didn't_ have them, and also good that I have them now, so I can give them to the people to fill my prescription. So pleased was I that I got out of my truck to go inside and promptly locked my keys in the truck. This is something I rarely do... I only do it when I do something in between turning off my truck and getting out, which I generally don't do for precisely this reason. Ironically, the thing that sank me this time was trying to be responsible and call the insurance people to have them send me cards it turns out I had. While waiting for my prescription to be filled I wandered through walgreens calling through my list of friends who have AAA... the third one I called answered and gave me the number to call. Here's where luck turns my way... since I was calling to be let into my truck, when they asked me whether I had my card, it was entirely believable that I could neither confirm nor deny that I had my AAA card on my person... I mean, fair enough to say that if I had it it would be in my truck somewhere... Thankfully, the locksmith had just come back from helping with relief work in the Gulf area, and he could have cared less if I had a card or not.
Nashville, TN, 5 days later: Realized I hadn't made a mental note of where I left my truck in long-term parking... which extends for a mile or so. Fortunately, the shuttle winds in and out, and my truck actually called out to me when it saw me passing. It's a good thing it hadn't decided to give me the silent treatment.
Chattanooga, TN, next day: It occurred to me that while I had made an intentional last trip back to Vee's studio in Nashville to make sure I hadn't left anything there, like a toothbrush or shampoo or my cell phone or something, I had no concrete memory of actually putting my guitar in the truck. Sinking feeling - pulled off at gas station. Turns out there was a reason I had no memory of this event, in that it did not in fact take place. I can't bear to tell you how far Chattanooga is from Nashville. You can look it up if you want. Fortunately, it's pretty country. Unfortunately, one whole round trip was in the dark.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I roll.
