El Viajero

No, it’s not the punchline to a raunchy joke. Seinfeld had his keys episode, and I had mine. I’m afraid his was much funnier than mine, but it’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

One of our first goals on last year’s sabbatical to South Florida was to get a car for the year (besides an apartment, furniture, housewares, etc.) Since we’re big fans of Honda, we looked for a local dealer and found Rick Case. We picked out a 2005 Civic and worked out the details. Since we needed to wait over the weekend for the money to get wired, we went back in on a Monday to pick up the car. Our salesman wasn’t in that day, but another one took care of us. When we finally finished the paperwork, we were handed one key for the drive home. When I asked about another key, I was told that I needed to talk with my own salesman. When I asked what kind of car comes with only one key, I was told again that I needed to talk with my salesman. Caveat emptor!

Anyway, the next day, my daughter’s first day at school in the U.S., my wife and I decided to grab a slice of pizza or a hot dog at the Costco around the corner in Davie. After eating, it was getting close to the time to pick up my daughter, so we headed out to the parking lot. As we got close to the car, I pulled out the key, still attached to the dealer’s keyring. Since we still had only one key, I hadn’t added it to my own keyring yet. As it left my pocket, it slipped out of my hand and started to fall to the ground. At the same time, my right leg was moving forward of the 180º plane and the key was heading right for my foot. In a shot that would have made any soccer mom proud, the key connected with my foot at the precise time to give the key enough momentum to go about 4 meters. Guess what was 4 meters in front of us? Yep, that drain. With just enough momentum to fall in, the key went ‘plop’ in the corner.

Panic ensued as my wife and I looked into the new Key Master. I ran back into the Costco looking for someone who could help me with the drain. I was directed into the office where I was told the drain was about 5 or 6 feet (1.5 or 2 meters) deep and half covered with water. When I was told nothing could be done about it, the next thought was picking up our daughter. When I asked if they could call us a taxi, the manager, who rightly understood it would be weird for my daughter to be picked up on her first day of school in a cab, asked one of the folks in the office to take us to get my daughter. I decided to stay to try and work things out with the car, and the wonderful Jennifer from the Costco office took my wife. Thanks a bunch, Jennifer!

I called our salesman at Rick Case to see about another key, but I was told that the car needed to be brought in, which in this case meant towed in. That’s when I learned about the microchips in keys that need to be programmed for specific cars to prevent theft—very clever! No offer was made to help us out in any other way than bring the car in. I got the number of the 24-hour towing service that the dealer offered and called them up. They called me back and said the driver was in Miami and would be there in a couple of hours! Something is wrong with that system…

I figured I had time to try and do something, so I started asking about the drain again. The folks at Costco told me that I did not want to get into that drain because of what might be in there. I figured I could at least use a coat hanger to try and fetch it out of there. I was told that the workers in the tire section at Costco all wore uniforms and that they might have a spare hanger. I got one from them and starting fishing. Imagine the sight: some guy is standing in the middle of the parking lot with an opened-up coat hanger in his hand. It’s a hot, sunny day and there’s quite a bit of traffic. Every time a car came, and there were plenty of them, I had to disengage my improvised key extractor and move out of the way. One of the workers there came by to help out and even tried to pull up the drain. I hadn’t even thought of that because it looked quite heavy and seemed to have several layers of blacktop around the edges—sealed shut, as it were.

Most people were sympathetic and offered to help or give advice and/or encouragement. A common question was, “Whacha’ fishin’ for?” After 45 minutes of standing out there (and still about 30 minutes before the tow truck was due), a nice group of four people were standing with me commiserating. At that point, I had made so many attempts to snag the key that I figured it had to be in one corner. I made one attempt from a different angle, and the coat hanger weighed three times as much. When it cleared the water (can I call liquid that was a very murky gray water?), the five of us could see the flash of the key. One of the gentlemen grabbed the key as it came out of the drain, and life was good again.

I called and canceled the tow truck. I thanked the folks at Costco and told them of my success. My wife wrote a great letter to the Costco home office; Jennifer later told us she got a letter herself for her file. We needed to keep after the salesman at Rick Case; we finally got another key at no charge. They even bought our car back before we left.