These doors never open no matter how many times I click the button.
Look. Remember what the guard said. Let me get close. That’ll work. The guard told me so. Here. There. I’m here. I’m closer. It’ll open now. It has to open now. The guard told me so. Just a second. That’s all I need here. There. A second. And it’ll open in another second. The guard told me as much.
God, there’s a car behind me now. But it’s still not opening. Maybe if I move over there. Here. Now I’m there here. And I need to wait a second. Just a second. And I should click this button while waiting. The guard told me it’ll work if I click the button too.
Was that a second? I think. I need to do it all over again to make sure. Move a bit closer over there, now here, click the button, wait a second, and the door will open.
But it’s not working. I can’t move any closer. I can’t click the button any faster. And god knows I can’t wait more than a second because that’s a second right? Time’s time and right now, mine’s being wasted here and over there too.
Jesus, he’s starting to honk now. Let me turn on my yield lights. That’ll make him understand that the door must be broken. Or that the guard is lying. Or maybe both.
Come to think of it, though, I can’t remember exactly what the guard said. Something something about the door just opening. It should just open, I think she said.
Let me try that. Let me just do nothing.
Did I do it? I’m not sure. By not doing it I am doing it too. Wasn’t there an eastern philosophy I learned about this? Wu wei, I think it was called. Helps you reach enlightenment. That’s nice, but the door isn’t opening right now.
Open your window.
Sorry. The door must be broken…
The guard has to let you in.
Did you give your licence plate at the front?
No. I was given this clicker.
You need to have that to get into the building itself. The garage needs registration.
Ya. Go back and get your plate written down.
I will. Thanks. Sorry again.
I see, but now I don’t because he’s gone back to his car and I’m trying to reverse. It’s not working. He’s too close to me and I’m too close to the garage and I have no wiggle room.
He’s honking again. I don’t understand why. Doesn’t he know that such things happen? He told me as much. I’m sure the guard might have too. The door just opens, she probably said. It just happens.
Sorry I’m trying to back up like you told me but you’re too near my bumper.
Let me do it.
I’m not so sure.
Jesus Christ man, you’re wasting my time. I’m hungry.
Stop saying sorry and do something, and if not, let me do it.
Move over there.
Not that again.
Okay. Hurry it up. My car’s still running.
Okay okay. Sorry.
What did I sa… never mind. Can you just get out of the seat?
Jesus Christ. Stop it.
What? You don’t want me to get out now.
No. Man, listen. Just get out and I’ll take your car aside.
Okay. The pedal is just on the right.
I know where the pedal is.
Right. The brake is on the left.
The way you were driving, I’d guess you need to remind yourself of both those facts daily.
No, it’s just that it’s a new make.
All right. Whatever. Move to the side.
Got it. Be careful about the garage. It doesn’t budge.
This should be far enough. Or maybe if I just inch over a bit. There. I’m here. And here should be far away enough from there.
Why isn’t he reversing yet? He’s sitting there in my car. Did he mix the pedals up? I told him already. He shouldn’t. Pedal’s on the right. Brake, the left. He knows it and I know that he knows it too.
What if he’s rifling through my things? What if I have something compromising there? Did I clean the car? What did I leave in it? Let me think. Calm down. It’s nothing. Just a couple of things. A coat. A few tissues. A pop can. A ruffled insurance form in the glove box, though I don’t think he’ll go in there. It’s pretty clean too. It’s a new make after all, with the pedal on the right and the brake on the left and a garage that’s far too close to the front.
Still, no movement. Maybe I should move closer to him to remind him that it’s my car. It sounds crazy but sometimes people forget things like that. I mean the guard forgot to tell me to register my license plate with the front. Instead, stuff happens. And for me, they didn’t. Maybe for him too. He said that, kind of like the guard did. Happens.
But nothing is occurring right now and it’s getting cold and I’m hungry but so is he so I should be receptive to his needs because he’s trying to help. I’ll wait. But I’m still doing so and a second has passed and he’s not moving and maybe he’s waiting for me to stop waiting to do something or maybe he’s just waiting for me to keep waiting and again second has passed one more time.
Wait, he’s moving the car forward. Stop. STOP. STOOPPP.
Something a matter?
You’re going to hit the garage.
Mate, the door’s open now.
Ya. Anyways, can you take the car in?
I think so.
Good. This might help: pedal’s on the right, brake’s on the left.
Pedal’s on the right. Brake’s on the left. Got it.
Now get that right pedal working before my stomach eats itself whole.
What did I say before?
That the garage is open.
Never mind. Just drive in.
But what about the guard and registration?
I dunno. Door opened.
It just happened, I guess.