So, I went to Idaho last weekend to be with my younger sister, Lois, while she was having her first baby (check her out at rldraper.blogspot.com). I figured since I'm at a place in my life where I have a little extra money, the time, and a career that makes it possible for me to get up and go at a moment's notice (not to mention an innate need to do so occassionally) I might as well go. I booked a flight and flew out six hours later. Meanwhile, I texted my buddy, Corinne in Sandy, UT, and insighted her with road trip fever. Moments like these are definatley ones I want to bethere for so I'll take advantage of the ability to participate in them while I can.
The labor was pathetically easy (as was the pregnancy as reported by Lois). A perfect epidural, given early and lasted long with two short hours of intermitent pushing, which she chatted all the way through in between contractions. She felt "a tiny bit of pressure in her back" that let her know she was having a contraction and to push. Aside from a brief scare of stress on the baby, she came out smoothly and purple. Fortunately, this was quickly remedied with the help of some great nurses followed by a few days of prophylactic antibiotics. Kenya Irene Draper was born 6.6, 20 inches long on March 7, 2009 and is a beautiful baby girl, who looks a LOT like her mommy. At least for now. She is now home safe and sound with very proud parents.
Now for the rest of the story...
...I flew into SLC, rented a car at the airport, picked up Corinne and drove to Rexburg, ID. The interesting part of this story, however, unfolds on the return trip.
We were leaving the hospital to head back to SLC the afternoon after Kenya was born. It was miserably cold and blustery so we ran as fast as we could to the rental car. I hit the FOB a million times on the way there to make sure it would be unlocked when we reached it. We tore open the doors and jumped in. Ugh! Squiiish. The seat was so far forward I smashed my knees against the steering wheel (I assume from pulling the lever to let the seat forward while retreiving my backpack on the way in). I had to get out into the freezing cold to try to adjust my seat. It put up a good fight and took me a decent amount of time to figure out how to move it back. I thought for sure I had adjusted it before but it wasn't how I remembered.
Crisis resolved. I now could fit in with enough room to start the car (read heater). I turned the key without so much as grunt.
Steering wheel locked? No.
Key in upside down? No.
Slam hands on dash-check.
Verbally abuse the car-check.
Corinne: "uh, Amy..."
Corinne: "Uh, I don't think this our car."
We both look around frantically to test this theory. No rear view mirror decor. No gum in the console. No lingering wrappers. No signs of life anywhere. Nothing that would identify this car as having an owner. But then...
Corinne: "this car has four doors, I think ours just had two."
We jump out. Two parking spaces away, hidden behind a big SUV, is an identical car with only two doors. Oi! The owner must have just left the car unlocked (we were at the hospital in Rexburg, ID after all). After starting our car (read heater), I realized I'd just adjusted someone else's seat and moved it back signifantly (I know right, this part makes the story hard to believe, but it's all true). Now the question is do I get out and go put it back or not? I decide no. I'll stay put. What if the owner came while I'm in or crawling in or out of his/her car? He/she will just have a moment of confusion like I did and move on. No harm done.
Off to Arby's for a quick bite before ditching town. We order. Our order will take a few minutes, please pull forward and wait. Okay, pulling forward...KER-CHUNK! What the?!
I look out my window: Nothing. Corinne looks out her window: A giant foot-high curb that I have completely cleared on her side, high-centering the car. I still can't see it because on my side my wheel is on flat, smooth pavement. I jump out of the car (into the bitter, bitter, painful cold) and am immediately surrounded by two male Arby's workers both charmingly eager to help (and impress the ladies inside). "Don't worry. It happens all the time." (Okay then, don't you think someone should do something about that then?) They push. They push again. No go. A few minutes go by of trying to figure out what to do when a third chubby, young Arby's worker emerges. The other two seem to be in awe of him: "He's strong. Really strong. We can probably get it with is strength." Igh, whatever, it's worth a shot. Whoa! Go Herc! We're free! "Oh, and here's your order."
All right this is too funny, where's my phone! Where's my phone? Wait, where's my phone? Corinne starts to call my phone as I dig around. Dang it. Didn't find in time, try again. I'm dumping out my backpack in pursuit when...
Corinne: "Did you find this phone in you car?"
Yes, that's right. I left my phone in the stranger's car.
"How did the phone get in your car? Well, you see, it's really embarrassing...(...)
"...We're in the Arby's parking lot. Are you still at the hospital?"
Of course not.
"What's that? You live 45 miles out of town and you're on your way home? Oh."
"Oh, you're not far out of town; you'll bring it to us?! Thank you so much!"
Not two minutes pass our four door twin rolls up. Now before I tell you who the owner of the car is, what would you think if a phone was planted in your car and started ringing as you drove down the highway?
Possibly, "we have your cat" or "your mission should you choose to accept it..."
But this little old lady-all smiles, who doesn't even own a cell phone and initially thought the ringing was on a radio commercial (hence no response on the first call), is cool as can be. She behaves as if nothing is out of the ordinary and doesn't seem phased at all as she wishes us a safe journey and drives off.
This is too funny, I've gotta call someone, where's my phone?
"Hi, Mom?... guess what?"