Spared in the Commonwealth

A quick trip to Virginia turned into a near disaster last month…well, sort of. I thought the most exciting part of my day would be singing with Mr. Bruce Springsteen (That’s right friends, I sang in a choir with him at the Lincoln Memorial concert for Obama. Boyeah), but as I headed to a friend’s place in Virginia, I turned a corner barely a mile from her house, and busted a tire on my sweet 1993 Tempo. Luckily, I was just feet away from a small Greek café called Plaka’s Grill.


I felt ok about the situation, I mean, I had a warm place to wait, my friend was on her way to meet me (I called her the second I got inside), and most importantly, I had AAA.


Trouble began when I realized I did not have my AAA card on me. I managed to call home and get a hold of my pop who gave me the number to call for emergency service. I dialed away, confident that I would be back on the road shortly. The phone rang and rang, until finally, a recorded message came on saying that “regional AAA services have been halted due to inclement weather. We apologize for the inconvenience.”


THE WHOLE POINT OF AAA IS TO HAVE IT DURING INCLEMENT WEATHER! (Not to mention that the conditions on this particular evening were absolutely clear)


At this point, I become quite anxious. It’s 10pm in sleepy Vienna, Va and I need to be back in D.C. in 7 hrs for the obscenely early concert rehearsal the next day. I ask for a phone book, to start calling garages to get towed, when I am told the restaurant doesn’t have one. It is this detail, the lack of a telephone book, which pushes me over the edge. I become a Hysterical Crying Girl, while my friend, who arrived minutes earlier, turns her head mouthing “oh, she’s fine,” to customers witnessing the scene.


I then begin to harass every male I come across, asking if they know how to change a tire (I know it’s sexist to ask only men, but panic tends to draw the political correctness from me). I come to find that tire changing has become a lost art, and not a single person I asked that evening was able to assist me.


All the while, there was this really nice fellow at the counter that my friend and I had ordered food from (I did not want to be considered a squatter), who noticed my trouble. This dude had seen me laugh, cry, and totally lose it, all within a 40 minute span. He then offered to change my tire, so long as I did not mind waiting till the place closed. I told him I most certainly did not mind waiting, and managed to restrain myself from kissing his feet.


A short time later, he closed up shop and got to work on my old Ford. He had no gloves, so I of course, offered him mine (which I have not washed again since). He worked for about 30 minutes in 20 degree weather and the car ran once again. I felt so indebted to him, but all he asked of me was to give his place a good review on Yelp, which I did. So to reiterate, if you find yourself in Vienna and craving a gyro, hit up Plaka’s grill. Mention my name and you’ll receive a free drink and a tune-up.