Do Not Park, Do Not Pass Go

The planets must have been aligned under a full moon tonight. If you've been following the news of my life you'd remember our house being broken into last November, our car stereo stolen in February and our car breaking down in the middle of nowhere in March. Add one more to the list, will ya.
The omens were in the air. The full moon and an unprecendented number of policecars blaring their sirens on the streets. I must have seen at least twelve of them racing about their business tonight.
Min and I went to Centennial Hall to watch <a href="">Tango Buenos Aires</a>, which I had heard was pretty good. Ten minutes into the show I was yawning and trying not to fall asleep. Sure, the footwork was nifty, but there wasn't enough "wow" material to keep me interested for a full two hours. I had thought that Min, being more dance-inclined, saw something that I didn't. Maybe it was something in my psyche or my genes that just didn't predispose me to this form of performance art.
During the intermission, Min looked visibly tired and she wore on her face the look of one in a dilemma. I nudged her just a little bit and we both decided to skip the second half of the show to meet up with some friends for dessert at Applebee's.
<div class="quotable"><span style="font-size:20">"</span>Where'd we park the car?<span style="font-size:20">"</span></div>We parked the car at Wenyang's and decided to pay him an impromptu visit. We then borrowed his phone to make a few phone calls to make arrangements. That probably took ten to fifteen minutes tops. I barely had time to finish reading an article in a photography magazine he had on the coffee table."erm…where'd we park the car?", Min asked, standing on the empty parking lot where our car had been. I rubbed my eyes, hanging on to a thread in hope that it was all a bad dream. A small sign on the wall mocked us. "No Parking", proceeded by a phone number of a tow company in small print.
"Yeah we have your car", came the reply over the phone. It'd cost us more money to get it back. Analisa drove us down to the tow company where we were greeted by a not-too-tall guy who looked the splitting image of <a href="" title="click on Viggo Mortensen from the Lord of the Rings Cast page">Viggo Mortensen</a> and a generic taller brown-blonde mechanic-type sidekick. Viggo wore all black, and had a wiccan pentagram pendant around his neck.
Given what we've gone through the past six months, the cumulative effect would have justified us being utterly pissed at this latest turn of events. But it dawned on me that nothing happened outside of the plan of God. I could have done the classic shaking-my-fist-at-the-sky routine, but I still wouldn't get my car back.
At the end of the day, these were just people doing their jobs, even if I thought of them more like vigilante guerilla tow-truckers rather than the clean-cut mechanic who simply wants to help. I read the sign, and took the risk. It wasn't their fault.
While processing the paperwork, Viggo comes up to me and asks me if I were a relative of Perry Teo, since we shared the same last name. My mind scrambled to compute if a "yes" meant I'd get a discount, but the nobleness of my heart didn't allow it. Ok, so it wasn't the nobleness of my heart. In my bumbling, I muttered "Who's that?" and gave myself away. Viggo then excited asked me if I knew what "Teo" meant in Greek.
"It means God", he said. "If I were God, this whole mess wouldn't be out of my power now, would it?", I replied with a chuckle. Somehow, the tension was released and we kinda held a friendly conversation. I shook hands with Viggo and sidekick, and told them that I was glad to have met them. I also told them that learning the meaning of "Teo" was probably the most expensive vocabulary lesson I've ever had.
It is our duty to shine as lights even amidst the darkest of hours. I know what Lucian means. I always have. It means "Light".
Hope I brought some with me tonight.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *