Day 13 Post-Op aka Mother is Always Right

With some continued soreness I was skeptical about traipsing through Oracle Open World traffic for my afternoon meeting with an out-of-country VP.  So I took my mommy with me!!!  With my back-up pilot secured we braved cross town traffic and headed into the City.  The new Eastern bridge span entranced us with it's Made in China glow, dazzling mommy through the sun roof.

I'm pretty sure it took as long to get from the base of the bridge through .9 miles of city traffic as it did from home to that point. 

With 20 minutes to spare we triumphantly pulled into Valet parking ... only to be told that Valet was an all day service for $48.  The man kindly suggested parking for the required 90 minutes in their lot across the street.

The building loomed large, a vertical parking structure with tight turns and narrower corners.  A nightmare of a garage under normal circumstances.  My boobs ached just looked at it.  

The despair in my eyes must have been apparent from across the street, as I stood transfixed next to my car and the Valet, another parking attendant sprinted over and gallantly offered to drive my car over and park it for me.  Relief washed over me and I pressed the keys into his hands, not a second thought about my car (which is wild considering my normal inclination is unnaturally protective of my vehicles).  My mom whispered, "give him a BIG tip".  I agreed.  She insisted that I hand it over NOW.  I scoffed and said I'd get him when we picked up the car, that's how it's done.

Tucking my mommy securely into the hotel bar, ginger cocktail in hand, garlic truffle fries on the way, I made my meeting with 10 minutes to spare.

An hour later I retrieved my mommy and asked for the bill, only to find out that she had already paid for her own drinks and fries!!  Well, she'd had two and wasn't sure I could afford the second one.  Really????  REALLY???

Ashamed that I had let my mom pick up her own bar tab we went to fetch my car.  Which was literally waiting for me in the driveway of the tiny tight garage entrance, thrilled I scanned for my chivalrous parking attendant, money in hand.  He was nowhere to be found, the cashier had no idea who I was even talking about.  

With mounting shame we got into the car, "Yes, Mom, I know I should have tipped him when you told me to".

The drive home was a breeze but don't doubt for a second that the first thing I did when I got in the door was to whip off my bra and breathe a huge sigh of relief.