224. Three cheers for Competition.

Some of you may have noticed my blogging absence. No? :)

R and I were in Las Vegas visiting a couple of our favorite people.

Instead of flying, we drove. At 100 miles per hour we noticed our tires were out of balance. When we got to Las Vegas, we found a Porsche dealer (Gaudin, to our knowledge and according to the yellow pages, the only one in Las Vegas), and scheduled an appointment. The receptionist said it would only take a couple of hours. Since they had an on-site cafe, we decided that we could wait the 2 hours there, and then leave with our car.

The next day we brought our car in for the 11 o'clock appointment. The "service consultant" said it wouldn't be ready until the later in the afternoon. "Grrrrr," I said. "We have a shuttle service," he replied as he jumped back in mortal fear. "Fine."

Later in the afternoon came and went. I called at 4:45 to check on the progress. The saccharin receptionist informed me that the car was ready. Good thing I called.

We showed up and were told to go out front to get our car. We did so and waited. We waited for 10 minutes. I went up to another receptionist and she called the service consultant. Imagine my alarm when she exclaimed, "You're kidding me!" She turned to me and said that Paul would be right out. I decided I would let Paul give me the bad news.

It took Paul another 7 minutes to come out and meet me. It was 7 minutes of agony. Did they break something? Hit my car? Misplace my car? I was very relieved to hear that they simply lost my keys, this set of keys:


"It has a big stuffed lobster on it. How did this happen?"

"I think a mechanic inadvertently took them home."

Let me repeat: It has a big red lobster on it. How did this happen?

"I'll call you first thing in the morning when I have them in my possession."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

You're welcome? Hmmm. Good thing R had his keys.

Paul, to his credit, did call first thing in the morning.

"I have your keys."

"I'll be there within a couple of hours."

"That's fine. Take your time."

I will, you dumb-ass. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

You're welcome? Hmmm.

After a 30 minute drive with traffic and red lights, I finally arrived. Paul saw me, ducked into his office, and came out with my keys.

I took the keys and waited.

And waited. I think he wants me to say 'Thank you' again!

I continued to stand there and stare at him expectantly. He did the same.

Finally, he uttered "I'm very sorry about what happened."

With that, and without saying a word, I turned on my heels and left.

Las Vegas is one town in need of another Porsche dealer.