I drove, and this is important because of what happened after the show was finished.
I couldn't find my car.
Actually, it was Joe's car, and it's a non-descript slate gray that looks like every other non-descript slate gray car in the parking lot.
"I think we parked over here," said my friend, heading left.
"I'm pretty sure it was over here," I said, veering right.
We bumped into another friend who wondered what we were doing. "Looking for my car" seemed like such a lame thing to say, but since it was so incredibly obvious what we were doing the only thing I could do was 'fess up.
After wandering around for a couple of minutes I decided to pop the trunk. I'm not proud of this, but better the trunk than the alarm button. As I looked around, though, no trunks had popped open.
What the heck? By now I'm beginning to feel stupid.
Finally, between the three of us, we found the car, parked behind a behemoth SUV that dwarfed my little non-descript slate gray Toyota. I blame everything on that SUV ...
especially since the lyrics for Camelot will be forever changed in my mind.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
than here in
the parking lot.