I spent Friday night at my friends house, catching up, drinking wine, eating (Waleed’s) cheese (sorry Waleed). My alarm went off at 7:00am on Saturday. I got my outfit ready. I brought some clear polish because I knew the polka dot tights (that I wore once, the night of our engagement) had a couple runs starting in them. I carefully dotted the polish to stop the snags, but as I pulled them on a brand new run popped up out of nowhere. Wtf Express? There was no option to go tight-less, as I didn’t want to scare customers off with my sexy leg stubble. I moved on to a spare outfit I had: sweater dress, leggings, boots. I knew I’d be hot. I also knew I’d get blisters on my feet, as without tights there would be friction between my feet and boots. Oh well. I left the house.
When I turned the street corner to face the back of my car, something struck me. I could see a wine crate from my display, sitting vertical, through my hatchback window. I knew that everything I had in my car had been laid flat so that nothing was sticking up and visible. What the? Then I noticed the shattered glass on the ground. Heart dropped.
Of course the thought crossed my mind, parking on a street in San Francisco with stuff in my car. I guess I figured the odds were in my favor, seeing as I would only be there for one night. Nope.
Standing at the back of my car, looking at my show display, covered in shards of glass, I see my cash bin in clear sight. HA! Take that asshole, you missed my cash bin. This makes me feel a little bit better, seeing as it was probably the most valuable thing (besides my precious cards, duh) in my car.
I notice that they shattered a 2nd window to push one of my back seats up, looking underneath for something worth taking. But there wasn’t. Nothing was taken. It just took smashing two windows to decide nothing was worth it. Asshole.
I felt alone and helpless. I didn’t want to go to the show. I was mad at myself for not trusting my gut. After calling Jordan and my insurance company, I called Erika. She was in a taxi on her way to the show location from the airport. “I’m coming to you. Where are you at?” True friendship.
Together we drove to the show in my ghetto-fied car, spewing flakes of broken glass on the way. Once arriving, we carefully removed everything from my car, making sure to discard all the broken glass so customers don’t cut themselves upon reaching for a Shit To Do notepad.
The show itself was ok. Foot traffic left something to be desired and after an insurance deductible and gas expenses my profit was small. But I got to spend a day with Erika and met a couple Instagram friends, so hey, silver lining.
While I was at the show, my friend Sina came to pick up my car and took it to get the glass fixed at a local shop. Three hours later, the show was over and my other friend, Waleed, brought my good as new car to pick Erika and I up. I mean, could I have better friends? So thankful.
Lessons learned? Trust your gut. You can’t win them all. And obviously, I have great friends.