Last night I went to the Walmarts because KC had worn some fleece lined leggings, and I had to have some. I almost sent her an angry text about teasing me with them and then me not finding them, but it turns out I was looking in the wrong section. I found them and bought them in three colors because they were only $5 a pair.
When I put them on this morning, I loved how soft they felt on the inside, but they were a little hard to maneuver. Mid-way through my morning, I knew I may have made a mistake in wearing them, as I discovered that my leggings were much longer than my legs, and I was therefore forced all day to choose between elephant knees and elephant ankles. I chose knees, but they eventually migrated down to the ankles anyway.
This morning is where my real story is for today. I went to the Starbucks this morning to get my daily white chocolate mocha (which I will miss terribly come February 1st), and as I pulled into the parking lot, I notice a lady trying to figure out how to change the tire on her minivan.
I went and asked if she needed any help, and she said she did, as she couldn't figure out how to get the spare tire off of her minivan. She had gotten so far as to get it out from underneath the van, but couldn't get much further. She had called her son to come help her, but he was a teenager and was still asleep and was in the process of getting out of bed and out of the house.
At this point, I knew that if it was me, I would have any number of friends to call, whose husbands would head in my direction to get my tire changed. My own parents would not be included in that, because they have never changed a tire in their lives between them. They let other people (AAA) do that for them. They've also wondered why I ever learn and do something like that, since other people can be paid to do that for them. But that's not exactly how I roll. And it was not my style to call someone to come help a complete stranger that I'd found in the Starbucks parking lot.
I went into the Starbucks and asked if anyone knew how to get the spare tire off the minivan, and I was met by seven blank stares from seven occupied (and confused) baristas. They could not for the life of them figure out what I was asking, even though I was using phrases like "a lady in your parking lot has a flat tire and doesn't know what to do and needs help."
So, on my way out the door back to the damsel in distress, I gave myself the standard "you're a smart one, and you can figure this out." I managed to get the tire moved around and off the minivan. I got it around to the driver side front flat tire, and then took a good hard look at the jack.
This is the point where I realized I had no freaking idea how to work this lady's tire jack. The thing is... it was missing a piece. I got it situated under the wheel area, which is actually pretty challenging on a minivan parked in the dark of a Starbucks parking lot at 6:40am.
It should also be noted that at this point the damsel in distress should be thankful that I am a fourth grade teacher, as nothing I was wearing save my shoes cost me more than ten dollars. Fourth grade teachers don't get to have fancy clothes. It's in the handbook.
Long story short(er?), her son came and switched out the tire, but the part that made me so annoyed was the three or four men who came in and out of the Starbucks with their coffees, and just gave a sidelong glance to the two (clearly confused) women in the dark parking lot trying to change a flat tire.
Chivalry is dead, my friends. At least when it's up against caffeine.