Kicking the Vending Machine Doesn't Always Work

Tuesday after work, Ana and I headed further into the city to pick up a friend of hers whose job had brought him to St. Louis for a few days. Brad does lighting at conventions, so we took a quick tour around the convention center where he lit up a stage for us to show off his skills. Other than the perpetual arch, which got annoying fast, it looked pretty awesome, with colors and shapes dancing behind the podium. Plus, we parked in a secret hidden drive right behind the convention center, where only cool people get to park. It had the effect of walking through an "Employees Only" door.

After the tour, we headed out to dinner. As we left the restaurant, we were stopped by a man asking for money. It's the first time that's happened in this particular area, and I don't know if the cold holiday season has made people more desperate or if it makes it easier to play people's emotions. Is it bad that I am getting that cynical?

Well, we handed him a couple dollars and hopped into the car. Then Ana shut her door -- or tried to. With a sound of metal hitting metal, the door hopped back open. She tried again. The door wouldn't close.

Brad jumped out of the car to do the man thing and fix it. He had already fixed our television by turning a button off and on again, but this proved no easy fix. First Brad, then Ana and I, examined the latch, the alignment of the door, the other door, anything we could think of to help. I know I know very little about cars, but Brad was determined to fix it. Finally, he told Ana, "Turn around and don't look." Which she promptly did, and he employed the strategy often used against ornery vending machine: brute strength applied in a generally helpful direction. He slammed the door.

It shut.

Something cracked as it did, and he opened to door to investigate. We heard a rattling inside the door, and Brad felt no click as he pulled the door handle. The latch had broken and sounded to be rattling inside the door. The door now shut, but didn't lock and could be pulled open without the use of a handle.

Ana called AAA and we got the car towed. The end result? Simple living does not provide much spare money, so car repairs mean no Sister Hazel concert.