Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

Daughter and I looked at each other in disbelief.  "Where is my car?  I did park it here, didn't I?" I said, feeling like I was having an out of body experience.

I was visiting Daughter, my car parked in a guest spot, that was now conspicuously vacant. Daughter ran to security and the building manager invited us to his office where he turned from Jekyll to Hyde.

We were abruptly and summarily taken to task for not having a guest pass, which we were issued, but mysteriously disappeared. The moment we questioned him he went ballistic, screaming like a deranged lunatic.  This was then followed by a number of incidents, too extraordinarily freakish to recount.

I subsequently made a visit to the repo lot, (not a phrase I thought I'd ever utter), where I paid a ridiculous sum of cash to retrieve my car being held hostage in a dusty, weed infested lot, with pit bulls standing guard and a beat up iron fence; my Lilly scarf and I looked totally out of place. I could say so much more, but I really don't want to end up in the witness protection program.

The building manager's irrational behavior made us feel as though we had fallen through Alice's rabbit hole.

Having my car towed was the least of it.  There is no way to verbalize the depth or absurdity of the situation, unless Daughter and I acted it out.  Which we are not.  We will be happy to put it behind us.

The only lesson I can extract from all this ridiculousness is sometimes you have to walk away, even when you know you are absolutely right.  There really is no reasoning with a crazy person.

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