Thanks SFMTA, thank you.

Having your car towed sucks. Having your car towed the day you are leaving for a two-month trip to Bali? It BLOWS. Big time.

I woke up Sunday at 6:00 am with the cramps from hell.  Unable to go back to sleep, I decided to take half a Vicodin and watch some reality TV. Wha? Don't be jealous.

I had been staying at my friend Laurel's place on Ocean Beach taking care of her dog, Bru Ngo. It was the day of the annual Bay to Breakers race – where people dress in costumes and run a 12K through Golden Gate park, ending up at the beach where I was staying. I had everything packed and was ready to load my car with all of the crap that would go back to storage. My flight was scheduled for 1:40 am. At 10:30, I went downstairs with my first load of bags, and found myself in the middle of what looked like the morning after a frat party on Halloween weekend at UCSB. If you've ever been to Santa Barbara for Halloween, you know what I'm talking about. It wasn't pretty. And my car was gone. All that was left on the street were signs saying "Tow away zone."

After sending several panicked texts looking for help, I finally found a ride to the police station and tow yard. Never mind that because of street closures for the race, I had to take a 45-minute bus ride to go just 3 miles for that ride. I was happy enough to have found some help. By 3:00, I was out $437, plus a $55 parking ticket (REALLY?!?), and ready to load my car.  Again.

The rest of the day was all about getting a few things wrapped up, dropping a load off at storage and getting to Benicia to have dinner with Dave and Stacey Jones before heading to the airport. Even though they are my brother's in-laws, I have always had a nice, familial, relationship with them. This became especially clear when I was the one stuck watching their dogs while the young one, Katie, was in heat.

Before she took me to the airport, Stacey welcomed me with a bottle of champagne and chicken-pot-pie. Who could ask for anything more? Well I didn’t have to. For dessert we had warm chocolate volcanic cake and to-die-for Drumstick ice cream. Towed car? Eh.

Thank you, Mrs. Jones, for making my last few hours in town so special.