For this story to make sense to you there are a couple of facts you need to know.
I wander around often. Ohio, Georgia, Gulf Shores, Alabama, and South Florida mostly. Sometimes Arizona too. I have a wonderful and comfortable relationship with a great lady who, for the purpose of this story, we shall call “Lynn” because when I suggested there might be a story here she threatened my life if anyone figures out who she is. She still works and lives in Ohio. She stays in her lane. I stay in my lane. We have smoothed all the kinks out over time and our current situation works for us both.
As I sometimes do, I spontaneously extended my most recent trip by a week. Lynn understood and even used that change to do some of her own impromptu travelings. She got back to Ohio several days before I did this time.
Today’s misadventure started with a phone call from her to me as I was driving in Southern Ohio. “Guess where I am?” she said. Before I could formulate a smart-ass answer she said, “I am at your house.” “Wow”, says I. “What the heck are you doing there?” “I thought I would surprise you with a home-cooked meal since you have been on the road all day,” she replied.
I expressed my gratitude appropriately, remembering that although she does not have a key she does have one of my garage door openers and I NEVER lock the man door in the garage.
“How far away are you?” she innocently asked. Looking at my Nav. screen I said “I am 126 miles out and at my current speed of 76 MPH I will be there shortly.” With a little hint of mischief in her voice she then said, “I just took off my shirt. How fast are you going now?” Well, Holly Hanna! I looked at the screen and somehow I was now going 85 MPH. Reporting this to her she said, “Not good enough. Wait one moment.” I heard rustling sounds. A moment later she said, “I am now naked, cooking in your kitchen. How fast are you going now?” Stunned, I reported that, previously unknown to me, apparently the Ford Motor Company installed a speed governor on the new Bronco’s which I had just reached at 96 MPH. She laughed and simply said, “Hurry up!” then she hung up.
Catching my breath, I saw that the only thing moving faster than my speed needle indicator was my gas gauge needle and these two were moving in opposite directions. The simple and obvious math of this situation meant that if I did not moderate my speed I was going to have to make a fuel stop to get home to the naked kitchen chef. I slowed down a little which helped the fuel situation. I cracked all the windows a little which helped my brain situation. I tried to focus on driving and not on what was happening in my kitchen.
The next 15 minutes or so I now think back on as the most pleasant part of my day. Traveling on the highway (at a speed that would permit me to arrive without a fuel stop). Fresh cool air in the tuck. Not much traffic to deal with, and my brain playing out my dinner plans. Total bliss.
My phone rang.
Seeing that it was Lynn, I hit the connect button, and before she could say anything I innocently said, “So what’s for dessert? Wait, before you answer that I have a great idea! Let’s eat dessert first.” So pleased with myself for thinking of this snappy double entendre. There was total silence from her end for too many seconds.
“Oh my gawd! OH MY GAWD!!” was what I heard. Before I could inquire further she informed me that she was locked out of my apartment. “PLEASE, PLEASE tell me you have a door key in this garage.” she pleaded. Thinking that this was more rapporte on her part I replied that of course, I did not as I NEVER lock the man door, nice try! “What?” She screamed into the phone. “What special kind of dumb-ass doesn’t hide a spare key in the garage? You are lying aren’t you?” “Wait what? Are you really locked out?” was all I could get out of my mouth.
What came next was one big breath, followed by one long and forlorn stream of words, tortured, pleading, and becoming angrier by the second. “When I decided to tease you I really did get naked. I locked the man door so, you know, nobody could get me but you. My car is in your garage. I left the sour cream for the Tex-Mex dinner in the car. I looked out the front window to make sure nobody was around and decided I could get it without having to get dressed. THE STUPID DOOR LOCKED! I am NAKED AND LOCKED OUT OF YOUR HOUSE!”
Not positive I believed all this (and that was my next mistake, given her tone of voice) I said something utterly 12-year-old-boy stupid. Something like, O.K. we can eat later, we have never made out in your new car yet anyway. Honestly, I thought we were still playing the naked chef game.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone that frightened me. Might this all be true? “Listen carefully, you simple-minded, one-track-brained, man-child!
I am NAKED. My phone is in your house. My car keys are in your house. I am talking to you on my watch WHICH IS ABOUT TO DIE. I am butt naked and LOCKED OUT OF EVERYTHING! Are you following along yet, you dim-witted Neanderthal? ARE YOU HEARING ME YET? ARE YOU GETTING ME YET?? I am NAKED and LOCKED OUT! Do you copy yet???”
“Wow, yes I believe I do now understand. Listen, calm down” (REALLY BIG MISTAKE).
Ya know how guys always screw up besides saying calm down? We hear the problem or issue and immediately begin offering solutions rather than understanding. We can’t help it. We are problem solvers.
So, here goes…
“I’m sorry, O.K. I should not have said calm down. I understand you feel naked, afraid, and vulnerable.” She interrupted me with, “I AM NAKED YOU RUBE!” (All of my feigned concern was a big fat lie on my part. I was beginning to enjoy the situation). Continuing I said, “So maybe you push the button which will shut the garage door. Sit (naked 🙂 on my stool and wait. I will be there in about thirty minutes. Will that work?” “Sure thing buddy, except the oven is on and your surprise dinner which I now completely regret even considering making for you is 5 minutes from done, so I will either burn to death when the place catches fire OR MAYBE you would like me to run NAKED through your neighborhood while the place burns to the ground!!” she said with the beginning of panic in her voice.
What went horribly wrong this time is I took WAY too long to respond. I think she knew I was mentally seeing her run naked around the neighborhood while the fire trucks put out my now-melted apartment.
“You need to get home RIGHT NOW, THIS INSTANT, I BETTER SEE YOUR STUPID TRUCK COMING AROUND THE CORNER!” her tone was molten lava hot.
“Wait, (yet another error on my part) I thought you liked my truck?” Gawd how thick am I anyway?
“Chuck SHUT UP AND LISTEN! Do you hear that?” “No” I said. “I can barley hear you on that stupid Dick Tracy ugly thing you paid a thousand dollars for that you call a watch.”
“I KNEW you hated my watch! It’s the smoke detector in the kitchen. It is BEEPING! Oh my gawd what am I gonna do now?”
“O.K.” I said. “I now believe everything you are telling me .”
“You dim bulb. Why would I make all of this up, you brick-brained,… what am I gonna do?”
I took a deep calming breath, attempting to NOT sound like a guy trying to man-splain a solution. “Since you asked here is a plan. Hang up and I will call Eric my maintenance guy. He lives in the next building. He will come over and let you in. O.K.?”
“ARE YOU STUPID OR JUST IGNORANT? I AM NAKED FOR GOD SAKE!” was her reply.
One more deep breath by me and… “I get that but baby we can’t burn down the building.” Now she is starting to do that hate-filled sob that pretty girls use to hurt us men. “I got it!” I said. “Look in the corner of the garage. See the big arctic parka hanging there by the muck boots? Put that on while I get Eric to open the door.” A momentary pause as I now suspect her stupid watch has died, then she says, “Ewww this thing is filthy and it stinks and if you think I am putting that on with no clothes on and those awful nasty boots, oh hell no!”
“Your choice baby but I’m hanging up and calling Eric now.”
“Don’t you dare do that. Aren’t you almost here?” At this point I made an executive decision and hung up hopefully leaving her no option but to use the giant 3X Arctic parka (that apparently needed washed) as cover, thinking I could defend this action by saying her dumb, ugly, thousand-dollar, stupid, Dick Tracy watch had died.
I got Eric immediately and he and I shared a laugh before he said he would be right there.
About 20 minutes later I rounded the corner to see Eric’s maintenance golf cart in my driveway with Eric leaning on it. I next noticed every window and door in my place was wide open. I got out of my truck and Eric said with a grin on his face, “I’ll give you a minute, I’ll be right back with new batteries for your smoke detector. I have to go to the maintenance shed to get them.”
Wondering why I needed “a minute” I went in the house to see my giant 3X arctic parka and muck boots in the middle of the living room floor. Damn, that does need washed. My kitchen smoke detector was hanging by two wires like it had been murdered. The place smelled like badly burnt Tex-Mex three-cheese dinner and all three ceiling fans were going so fast I thought they might lift off with the ceiling still attached. Damn, this really happened!
As I took all of this in Lynn materialized from the bedroom fully dressed. (Odd, I somehow still had hopes for an early desert). “I’m going home”, she said. “Your dinner is in the sink. Be careful it’s really hot.” What I saw in the sink was not identifiable as anything except maybe volcano throw-up in a glass dish that had burn scorched the sink it now sat in.
“O.K.” I said. Trying to salvage dinner and maybe dessert I added, “Wanna order a pizza?” She simply looked at me as if she hoped I was burning in the stove and said, “No thank you and also Eric said they are gonna charge you one hundred dollars for the emergency lock-out, I will pay that.”
My mistake this time was trying to be funny and maybe admitting that I had cooked that part up with Eric (about the one-hundred-dollar lock-out fee) that, I now realize, was not a wise decision. “Ass hat” was all she said as she left. Honestly, I was simply trying to lighten the mood (and get a reprieve on dessert). At least she left still possessing my other garage door opener, so yea, I still have hope at least.
As I was poking the volcano lava throw-up in the partially melted glass dish in the now scorched sink with a knife, trying to decide if, a. any part of this Chernobyl melt-down might yet be edible, b. wondering at what sustained temperature does glass begin to melt, and c. maybe joking about the lock-out fee was a bridge too far, Eric returned with new batteries.
“Can I ask you something Chuck?” Eric said. “Sure buddy shoot.” He paused a moment looking at the nuclear melt in my sink. “We do lock-outs regularly, no big deal. right?” “I’ll bet,” I said. He looked up from the bowl of hot death in the sink and said, ”Can you tell me why she was wearing that giant parka and those muck boots when I got here?”
I simply looked at him for a couple of seconds.
“OH…. WAIT….. I KNOW….” was all he said. After breathing life back into my abused kitchen smoke alarm he turned to leave and said, “Damn dude, you live a crazy retirement life buddy.” “Don’t I know it” was my reply with a shrug.
Leaving thru the now unlocked garage door he suggested I get a spare key and hide it in the garage. “That’s a good idea,” I said.
“Hey Chuck, you ought to make one of your stories about this man!”
“Yet another great idea buddy, but first I think I’m gonna order a pizza”
(Illustration by my friend Mr. Blaine Brockman.
Chuck Choate Words & Pictures 
I just loved it my friend.Was laughing so hard I had to hold my sides.
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