I realize I have written about late night food runs a number of times here. A pattern of my bad behavior is emerging. Even though I am an adult, I can’t shake this sweet tooth. It is like a curse, but yet there is something about it that is empowering as an adult. The benefits of being an adult with a sweet tooth are many. Take for example, the freedom there is in ordering dessert before your meal when dining out. (I highly recommend this.) There can be a drawback, though. When dining with someone you have never had a meal out with before it can be alarming to your table mate(s). Be ready for disapproval, but I encourage you to see it as an opportunity to educate these people on how to live. I am proud to say I have converted a few folks to the “dessert before dinner” mindset. (You have served your purpose in life if you accomplish this cross over thinking in a handful of people.)
There can be trouble with this sweet tooth adult life. Take for example, last night. It was 10:45 in the pm. I couldn’t shake the need for a sugar fix before bedding down. So, I threw on my flip flops that I bought in the Honolulu airport a few December’s ago. I threw on my coat and stomped to the car in my pajamas, yet again. (It has become common practice for me to stomp out of the house in the night in my pajamas on the hunt for something sweet, for fries or for a large Pepsi Cola.) I looked like Boo Radley last night, but this was of no consequence as I needed a giant slice of Cheesecake or some mammoth sized piece of Chocolate Cake. With my sugar pang guiding me, I sped down the interstate headed toward downtown. There is only one grocery store in the entire Seattle area that I have found to have the best dessert cakes and this situation dictated a visit.
Parking downtown is always a nightmare, especially on a weekend night. With an addiction to sugar you tackle this challenge without second thought. After four laps around the block and no street parking available, I resolved that paying $8 to park in the parking garage was my only hope. (I tried not to do the math but couldn’t escape the fact that the parking was going to cost more than that slice of cake. Addiction makes bad decisions like this seem logical.)
I found a parking spot next to the exit. We call that Rock Star parking where I come from. I envision the stars are aligned tonight since I got this stellar parking spot and exit the car. As I stomped down the street toward the grocery store (appreciating that it is a 24 hour joint) I paid no attention to the passersby who must have wondered who I was with my pj’s and flip flops donned and took the opportunity to visualize the store floor plan in my head to try and calculate the fewest steps it would take to get to the cake section. I do this with success, get the cake and begin the death march back to the parking garage to get my car out of hock.
As I rounded the corner it became clear that there was a problem far greater than addressing this need for sugar. The parking garage doors were closed. The lights were off and there was no sign of an attendant. Mmm Hmmm, this is going from good to horrific in an instant, people. Panic set in. It is only now that I see the sign on the door that says, Garage Hours 6:00 a.m. – 11:00 p.m. I look at the time which is now 11:08 p.m.. This is no good. There is another sign that says, “After Hours Release $50.00” and it listed a number to call. Here I stood in my flip flops and pajamas thinking there is no way on God’s green Earth that I am paying $50 to get the car out of hock all for this one slice of $6 cake. Suddenly my sweet tooth was faced with forking over $64 in total for this late night run.
The Sweet Tooth Gods were out last night, folks. The door to enter the garage wasn’t closed all the way and I managed to get in sight unseen. Instantly the quest to get a slice of coveted cake became a James Bond thriller for me. I checked to see if anyone saw me skulk in the garage. It appears I had gone un-noticed. (Be advised: flip flops are loud in parking garages at night and in the dark.) I stumbled around and found the car. That in itself was noteworthy. Finding a car in a darkened garage can be deadly. Then I was hit with the even greater challenge of how was I to get out of the garage after hours. For about thirty seconds I envisioned the opportunity that lay ahead of me….. to slam through the gate like they do in the movies as if I were on a mission to get away from a murderer or gunman behind me. Then I quickly realized that with my lack of driving skill I would most likely take someone out on the other side of the gate and plow into some parked car or something. I didn’t want to be hauled down to the clink in my pj’s and flip flops on a Saturday night. The idea was quickly erased from the short list of possibilities. It was only then that I caught the glimpse of movement behind me. Another sneaky Pete was in the garage. They got into their car and began driving toward the exit. I followed. I saw them stick something out their window and wave it in front of the exit booth. Like magic the garage door began to rise! It was Bonnie and Clyde time, people. I pushed the accelerator to the floor and managed to slip out the gate with this card holding patron and was thrust into the free world. (Apparently you can be a card holder and get out of this garage and not need to mess with the toll booth.)
Freedom is good, friends. So is chocolate cake at 11:20 p.m. on a Saturday night in your car racing down the freeway in your flip flops and pajamas.
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