CHAPTER 6. VIGNETTES (CONTINUED)

If you read my earlier post "My Date With Betty", you probably think that I am a real klutz when it comes to girls.  Well, you ain't read nothin yet.  Wait until you read today's post below, entitled "Date From Hell".

​DATE FROM HELL (1964).  I know that we all have had dates that we would like to forget.  I have had 2.  If you think that the date with Betty was bad, wait ‘til you read about what I call “A Date From Hell”.
The date was February 1964.  I had been in the Washington, D.C. area for about 7 months.  I met a girl, Mary Fran, living in an apartment on the floor above me.  I asked her to go to a movie with me, and she said yes.  As I mentioned, it was February and perhaps the coldest day of the winter so far.  I had picked out the movie “Man’s Favorite Sport” starring Rock Hudson and Doris Day playing at the Lowes Palace.  During our drive to the movie in my now infamous Austin Healy Sprite, we froze to death because of the poor heater in the car.  I had a good idea of where the movie theater was, but I was still unfamiliar with the D.C. area.  I got lost.  I drove around for quite awhile before I asked for directions to Lowes.  When we found the theater, I had to park several streets away.  We froze as we walked to the theater.  When we approached the theater, I noticed that the marquis said the movie playing was “The Victors” starring George Peppard and Eli Wallach.  Then I looked further, and the theater was the Lowes Embassy, not the Palace.  I had brought Mary Fran to the wrong theater.  She tried to rescue me from this embarrassing situation by telling me that she had wanted to see “The Victors”.  But it had started 45 minutes ago and was about half over.  We decided to find the Lowes Palace where “Man’s Favorite Sport” would be starting in a few minutes.  We got directions from the ticket lady and sped to my car.  When I got into the Sprite, I noticed that my vision was blocked by something on the windshield.  When I retrieved it, I realized that it was a ticket for parking illegally.  How embarrassing.
I tried to follow the ticket lady’s directions to the Lowes Palace, but I got lost again.  Soon, by luck, we passed the Lowes Palace.  Not wanting to look for a street parking spot, and not wanting to get another ticket, I drove into a nearby parking lot and left the car at valet for them to park.  We again braved the freezing cold weather (about 15 degrees F) and walked to the theater.  The movie had already started but only 15 minutes earlier.  I bought tickets for the loge area.  Somehow the theater had a maze of fabric-lined passageways, and I got lost in the theater.  Without going up one stair, we ended up in the balcony and not in the loge.  We were lucky enough to find empty seats, and we began watching the movie.  It must have been funny because everyone in the theater was laughing but Mary Fran and me.
When the movie was over, we went to retrieve the Sprite from the parking lot.  Well, the National Theater had just let out from a play, and the valet area was packed with ladies in fur coats and gentlemen in tuxedos.  One by one, huge luxury cars were driving down the ramp for the patrons waiting for their cars.  Finally, my little Sprite arrived, and people were laughing out loud at the sight.  To make matters worse, this huge 6’3” guy got out of my car making a big deal at how difficult it was to get out of this little car.  The embarrassing laughter got louder.  Another valet attendant went over to the passenger’s side of the car to open the door for Mary Fran.  But the Sprite was designed with no door handles on the exterior of the car.  To open the door, you had to reach under the flexible, plastic, side window, grab the handle and lift up.  He did not know how to do this.  I went over and opened the door myself.  The laughter was deafening.  I drove out of the parking lot and headed home down Pennsylvania Avenue.
At this point, Mary Fran dropped the bomb and told me that she was too old for me.  Well, if I didn’t know before, I knew now that this relationship wasn’t going anywhere soon.  As we motored down Pennsylvania Avenue, we reached Constitution Avenue where it intersects with Pennsylvania Avenue at the National Museum of Art.  I began to change one lane to the right, and my steering broke.  It was like I had a hula hoop in my hand.  The steering wheel just spun around and around and the tires did not turn.  I applied the brakes, hit the curb, and the car came to a stop as it stalled.  The Sprite was blocking half the lane.  At 11:30PM on Pennsylvania Avenue and Constitution Avenue in Washington, D.C., the traffic is extremely heavy.  In about 30 seconds, traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see.  Motorists were shaking their fists at me (or worse) and yelling at me to get a real car.
I got out of the car and lifted the hood to see what I could do.  Meanwhile, the “little old lady” that I was with said she would get a taxi, get her car, and come back for me.  As I poked around under the hood, I noticed a round metal collar laying at the base of the steering mechanism.  I lifted this collar up and forced it into place.  I reached into the car, turned the steering wheel, and the wheels moved.  I quickly tried to get Mary Fran’s attention, but all I saw was the taxi door closing, and it sped away.  I was able to maneuver the car from the traffic lane and onto a shoulder.  I was now not blocking traffic.  I froze to death for almost an hour while waiting for my old lady friend, Mary Fran, to return and rescue me.
Mary Fran followed me to be sure I got home safely and didn’t get lost again.  I felt about 2-feet tall and 6 years of age.  The steering was very loose, but we got back to our apartment building safely.  I walked her to her door, but I didn’t even try to kiss her good night.  If I did, I probably would have poked her eye out with my big nose.
When I got in bed a few minutes later, I relived the night many times over.  I just couldn’t believe so many bad things could happen to me in about 4- to 5-hours of time.  I didn’t know it then, but the next day I noticed all my car’s glass lenses in the back had been broken in the National Theater’s parking lot.  I had to get my steering mechanism fixed, I had to replace all my rear light lenses, and I had a ticket to pay. 
Although Mary Fran and I never went out again, we remained friends.  We often talked about our date.  She told me that she thought I was the biggest clown she had ever gone out with and that she thought it all was very funny.  Personally, I failed to see the humor of it all.