Last weekend my BFF and I had a spa date for a relaxing girls’ day out in downtown Seattle. We parked in the shopping mall parking garage across from the spa.
After a wonderful relaxing afternoon (my toes are a pretty violet!), we headed back to the car. Somehow we ended up on the wrong floor of the garage. Hmm…no car. Figuring it out, we went back to the elevators and hit the “down” button.
The elevator door opened an a guy started to get out. He was decent-looking, a bit “macho” for my taste, in a thin tight v-neck t-shirt and trendy jeans. His two buddies said it was the wrong floor and pulled him back. We got in and I apologized for making them stop, but that we had gotten off on the wrong floor. He asked if, since he apparently wasn’t sure which floor he was on either, if we had seen his car.
Without missing a beat I replied “No, sorry, I didn’t see a pink Prius.”
All he could do was goggle and mutter “pink Prius?” over and over while his buddies howled.
(We saw them later as we came out of the garage – in a huge Suburban with music thumping. Yeah…that just figures…)