The Worst Night Ever

Good day, folks. For those of you anxiously biting your fingernails while awaiting my next post: (Dave, Mindy, Fuzzy Feline) you may now relax, for it has arrived.

The story you are about to read is completely and totally true. Nothing has been fabricated or exaggerated (and I ain't lyin' none either). I am simply giving the factual tale of The Worst Night Ever.


PART I: BEFORE I BEGIN ...


"I did pretty well, for someone new at this fun yet nerve-pinching job. I drove the cars quickly, parked them quickly, and in all areas tried (for the most part) did my best to be safe."

"If any of you has ever valeted a $100,000.00+ car, you have felt the many emotions that this job brings. The first one that hits you is awe:
You think, 'I get to drive that?! WHOA!'.
The second emotion hits you right after you have seated yourself on the inside of the car... it happens after you look around from your seat on the soft recliner-style supple leather, gazing at gizmos and gadgets and deep, rich, birch trim and flat screen TV's with DVD/MP3 players. This second emotion is pity... pity for yourself.
Now you think,'I'm poor!'
The third emotion punches you in the chest as you press the accelerator... POWER!
You want to scream, 'I am rich and invincible!' You speed along (quickly, yet safely) to your parking spot. Then you get out of the car and that emotion is gone... you realize you are poor and vulnerable to getting hit by other cars in the parking lot."

"Anyway, now you have just a few of the emotions a valet feels. For being such a simple job, there is an overwhelming amount of responsibility. You have to deal with not only the cars, but the people who own the cars."


PART II: AND SO IT BEGAN...


Most of you have probably never been to Nye's Polka Bar downtown. From what I had heard of it, the valet's who worked it would leave with a wad of cash... and by "wad" I mean 150-250 bucks for one night.

The new people were not allowed to work there, but after a couple months I looked at my schedule and realized that one Saturday night I was going to work Nye's. Some of my fellow valets got jealous... I got excited.

I arrived at 4 PM, ready to go. I looked at the parking lot and shuddered. It was TINY. Maybe enough room for 30 cars... and we had to fit at least 50? Great. I pulled on my jacket as I prepared for the night... placing my car keys and other things into the lock box (the large box on wheels that held all of the customers car keys) I removed the key from the lock box (used to lock the lock box) and put it around my neck.

There are two rushes at Nye's. The "late crowd", and the late "gimme-another-drink, time-to-sing-kareoke, I-don't-know-your-name-but-let's-make-out, can-I-have-another-drink, pleeease-can-I-have-another-drink, whoa-look-I'm-dancing-on-a-table" crowd.
The first rush (the dinner and 1-2 drinks people) arrived between 7-9. The lineup of cars was terrifying. The lot was full, and there was 3-7 cars lined up waiting for their cars to be parked. Me and the other valet sprinted around, moving cars, picking up cars, getting keys, parking cars, etc...

The rush died at about 9:30. We cleared some more cars out of the lot, and only parked a few more. Having a couple of minutes of breathing time, I ran over to the pizza place nearby and scarfed down some pizza. I ran back.

At about 11 PM the second rush started. The lineup of cars waiting to be parked was tremendous... there were probably about 15. I ran up to an older Porsche to hand the owner a ticket. He scowled at me from his old blue piece of junk. "Who's parking my car?" he snapped, glaring. I was crabby, tired, and in no mood to argue.
"Either me or the other valet... why? Is there something we need to know about this car?" I stared him down.
After a minute he and his wife got out of the car and went in. We parked it.

Just as things were getting even more out-of-control crazy, something terrible happened. Somehow (I still don't know how to this day) my key, which was placed in a hidden location (the key that unlocked the lock box) was gone. That's right, the lock box was locked - for good. Just then three different parties came out with their tickets. We looked apologetically at them. "It's going to be a minute folks...sorry..."

We called our manager immediately, who arrived in about 15 minutes. I also had to notify the managers inside, and they rushed outside. We tried prying, pulling, smashing, bending; anything to unlock the freakin lock box. Nothing worked. Finally, after the original three parties had been waiting for about 25 minutes and 5 other parties had been waiting about 15 minutes, we opened it. Running full speed everywhere at the same time we tried to pull up as many cars as possible.

"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP..." The stupid car alarm was going off. I tried the door again... nothing. I tried a different door... nothing. I tried the trunk (for those of you who don't know this, opening the trunk of a car with the key will normally turn off the car's alarm system.) and it opened. The alarm went off. I quickly ran to the drivers door and tried the key again... "BEEP BEEP..." AGHH!!! I raced off to find the owner... there he was, embracing his sweetheart. (As you can imagine I was really looking forward to breaking this up...)
"Sir...?"
I explained what was happening. He gave me a dirty look (like his stupid car was my fault) and followed me to the lot.
He couldn't do it either. I almost looked at him and said, "HA!" but I didn't. As I looked back I realized that there was a stack of tickets for cars to be picked up, and the other valet couldn't greet everyone, park everyone AND pick up everyone's cars. (What was wrong with this kid anyway?)

After those two mini-fiasco's, I was about ready to quit. It was after midnight and all I wanted to do was run to my own car and go home. If only I had known what was coming, I may have done just that.

PART III: I WISH I WERE DEAD-ER ...

The couple walked up to me and handed me their ticket. Panting, I quickly found the keys from the un-locked lock box and sprinted off to find there car. I arrived at the parking space and look around. Obviously the other valet had mismarked the ticket. I couldn't read his writing either. I quickly looked at the keys, only to discover that they were un-marked. They looked like generic copied keys. And there more than a dozen. ARRRRGGG!!! I ran to the nearest car, a large (and very expensive) dark blue GMC Denali. Slipping the largest key in the door (the largest key is normally the car key) I turned it. Nothing happened. I looked down at the key in my hand and to my delight found it was GONE... oh yes, I was holding part of the key (the part you turn with your fingers) but the skinny long metal piece (the part that actually starts the car) was gone... that's right, it was in the door to the GMC. I panicked. Pinching the end of the key that was barely sticking out of the door I pulled it out. Good... at least I had both pieces.

Walking back to the couple, I tried to calm myself. The key was old, probably to his house or something. An easily replaceable key.

"Sir?" I walked up to him trying to be cool and collected. "You drive a GMC Yukon Denali, right?
He leaned close and said in a gruff voice, "WHAT?"
I repeated my question with less confidence.
He spoke clearly. "I drive a PORSCHE... what the hell did you do with my Porsche's??"
Oh, crap. This was the Porsche guy! AGH!
He looked down at my hand and saw the key in two pieces. This time his words weren't so gentle. "That's my *&%!*% Porsche key! You broke my &(^%#^%$ Porsche you !^#$(^#(%^(!#%#^&^@@!!" I backed up as he grabbed the pieces out of my hand and stalked off to find his old crappy Porsche.

He didn't have far to go. Reaching the door, he opened it... the car was UNLOCKED! This wasn't my fault either... the other valet had forgotten to lock the car. The man got madder. I could tell he had been drinking - a lot. His wife had been, too... but they both reacted to alcohol in different ways. The man got mean and boisterous and obnoxious. His wife or whoever she was just leaned on the car and stared into space with a pleasant look on her face.

Getting into his car, the man jammed the tiny piece of key into the ignition. Joining our happy group was my manager and a manager from the restaurant... all very disgruntled. The angry Porsche man turned around and grabbed a screwdriver out of the managers hand... after this I just walked away. I started parking more cars, picking up cars, ect., trying to get this night off of my mind.

A couple of minutes later they were gone. He had somehow started the car, and left shouting threats of lawsuits, ect.
(I heard he later called the main office demanding a new ignition system... he didn't get it - he got a new key.)

It was 1:45 AM and the night was FINALLY winding down a little. A large grouped walked out and handed me a ticket. Pulling up their large read SUV, I got out of the running car. The owner walked up to me.
"Hey man... can you drive us to our hotel? It's just down the road." Oh, yippe skippy dippy just what I was dying to do... Chauffeur drunk people to their hotels. Grrrrrrr.... I looked at the other valet. He nodded viciously - favors like this came at high prices, and it may be worth it. I agreed.

Seven drunkies sat in the car with me... all explaining in loud voices where the hotel was and which road to take. Fifteen minutes later we arrived at the hotel which should have taken us 30 seconds to get to. Morons. I got out of the car and waited. The guy came around the car, said thanks, and handed me a $15... not bad. I ran back the one block to the restaurant to find with pure joy that it had closed. My night straight from h - e double hocky sticks was over!

We sat in a dark booth at 2:40 AM and pulled out The Wad. We counted.... and re-counted. We each went home with almost $250. Well-deserved, to say the least.

I would never in a million years re-live that night and valet there. I wouldn't do it for $250 or $400 or any amount of money.
I can honestly say it was probably without a doubt The Worst Night Ever.