Roadside Assistance

Today I was invited to attend a celebration for the engagement of my coworkers and friend, Jessica. Several girls from work were invited and we decided to car pool with one of our friends.

Right around the time that we would have to leave, our driver - Jax- called and announced that she was having some sort of hair emergency/situation and was going to be very late. So, I borrowed Fernando's car and picked everyone up.

Prior to leaving the house, I took extra care to put on on on nice dress, blow out my hair, do my makeup, and find some hot heels. The other girls had all done the same, despite the impending possibility that it could all be dramatically ruined by the landfall of a hurricane earlier that day.

I made the rounds and picked them all up - glamorous and lovely each of them. After picking up the last of the girls, we made our way to the Verazzano bridge to cross into Staten Island. We entered the belt parkway (one of the busiest highways in the city) with a thud. I thought we hit a pothole but pulled over anyway to make sure. I opened the door as little as possible to avoid the downpour and wind. Much to my dismay I was able to see the lumpy flat tire on the back drivers side.

I promptly called Fernando to ask if he had triple A. No such luck. I had changed A tire before and had all the confidence in the world that I could do it again. So, we hung up and rolled up our sleeves.

Two of the girls stood near the side of the road to try to flag down a passing car while me and Irina got the essentials out of the trunk. The doomsday feeling set in when we couldn't get the lug nuts loose. In the pouring rain. In nice dresses and heels and remnants of what was once pretty hair and makeup.

I have blogged before about NY men and how I was surprised by their gentleman-ness when I moved here. You know, holding doors and elevators. Letting the ladies go first. Stopping to help when you drop something. Apparently that chivalry dies during hurricane weather. For any hour we tried to get people to stop. A cabbie actually stopped - not to help but to see if we needed on on cab. Ummm, yeah. Whatever.

Finally, we were able to get the lug nuts loose after I changed into flat sandals and jumped on the lug nut loosener thingy (yeah, I can change on on tire. No, i don't know the name of the tool. Laugh if you must). Right after doing all the hard work, two nice undercover cops pulled over to help and finished the job for us. So chivalry isn't completely dead in a downpour, it's just severely limited.

The best thing about these girls is that we can have fun on the side of the road while getting ruined before on on nice party in the worst of circumstances. We danced around in the rain trying to wave down cars, laughing and giggling like stupid school girls. We even considered opening one of the gifts of wine for the future bride and groom and making our own party, but then decided against it because #1 we didn't have on on corkscrew and #2 we thought it might not be on on good idea if the police came to assist. Good thing!

My friend Marsha, who really should write stories of her own, is always the most entertaining company on little excursions like these. She's a huge flirt- very good at it and very successful. She asks to sit in the police car to wait. The three of us know her real motive - the second cop is in the car. When the tire is fixed, Marsha walks back to the car with his phone number and on on tentative meet up for drinks later. She is smooth like butter.

We all arrived at the party looking like we had been through the hurricane. But, no one seemed to mind too much and we had on on great conversation piece for the party.

PS there was a picture of all this but I am totally blaming Marsha that I have nothing to upload because she didn't send it to me. :)