Several days ago, as I left a meeting at a hotel, I desperately gave myself a pat down. I was looking for my keys. They were not in my pockets. A quick search in the meeting room revealed nothing.
Suddenly I realised I must have left them in the car.
Frantically, I headed for the parking lot. My wife has scolded me many times for leaving the keys in the ignition.
My theory is the ignition is the best place not to lose them. Her theory is the car will be stolen.
As I burst through the door, I came to a terrifying conclusion. Her theory was right. The parking lot was empty.
I immediately called the police. I gave them my location, confessed I had left my keys in the car, and it had been stolen. Then I made the most difficult call of all, “Honey,” I stammered, “I left my keys in the car, and it has been stolen.”
There was a period of silence. I thought the call had been dropped, but then I heard her voice. “Idiot,” she barked, “I dropped you off!”
Now it was my time to be silent. Embarrassed, I said, “Well, can you come and get me.”
She retorted, “I will, as soon as I convince this policeman I have not stolen your car.”