tow-tal frustration

Problem: My car breaks down at 11 p.m. one block away from my house. It dies so suddenly that I'm not able to steer it to the side of the road.
Solution: Call AAA
Ordeal: After navigating through an endless stream of pre-recorded AAA operators I reach a live person whose immediate apology that I'm having car trouble is so sincere I think it's still the recording. She tells me that my estimated time-frame for service is two hours. I tell her that my car is in the middle of the street and she conveniently changes my status to "priority." I later conclude that this is just one of those catch phrases they teach customer service reps for those bothersome customers that say anything more than "okay." This revelation hits me when the clock strikes 2 a.m. and there's no sign of AAA. (You may ask why I don't just go home, since I am only a block away from my house? I can't because the car is obstructing traffic and will be towed to Siberia).

So, I'm sitting in my car for three hours. Now, I know I should appreciate those good Samaritans who stop to offer me help, but after yelling out my window, "AAA is on their way" every five minutes I just want people to leave me alone. I keep my window up and avoid eye contact, but they're unavoidable. What really bothers me is when people try to diagnosis the problem after I've said AAA is coming. They ask me questions like, "Is there gas in the car?" Do you think I'm that stupid? Yes, there's gas in the car. A full tank in fact, which if lost these days would be tragic.

Another bothersome part of my night is the fact that my car has broken down near a police station. So, in between the good Samaritans I have to deal with the cops. I find I'm at that age where my image of the cops is slowly changing from evil to semi-evil, since I'm no longer worried about getting busted for underage drinking. But even in their efforts to help I am suspicious.

Finally AAA arrives. There are two men, one who does all the work and one who seems slightly slow. The slow one mumbles something to me, which I can't hear. "What?" I say. "Wateyerasat?" he replies. I can't understand if he has made a statement or asked a question, so I don't respond. After a long silence he says it again, and again I ask "What?" This goes on about four more times, until finally I understand: "What year is it?" I tell him I don't know because it's a friend's car (craig's mom). Some time passes and then he asks, "Wateyerasat?" So now I'm beginning to wonder how slow he actually is.

My car is finally towed and all is well, despite the fact that I'll have to get it towed to a garage the next day. But that's another ordeal.