The worst of my nightmares had come true that day. Getting stuck in an elevator is no fun for anyone unless —by some unlikely twist of fate— you happen to have the unpleasant experience on a day when your lifelong crush also happens to be there. But that only happens in the movies.

I remember it was Friday after I had had a night out with friends. Friends, of course — nobody drags themselves through the weekdays, looking forward to Friday just to spend the night with their enemies. On an average Friday night, my friends and I would just get tipsy, but I was so drunk that night that I couldn't remember where I had parked my car. I walked up and down the street a few times, looking for it until I was sure it wasn't there. Frustrated, I walked to the next street, racking my brain to remember where I had parked the damn car. I might as well have taken a cab, but as usual, I was short on money.

The street looked deserted, so I walked down the middle of the road to feel safer and scan both sides as I walked. My car was nowhere to be found, but as I approached the end of the street, I noticed my bike chained to a stunted tree. I had no idea how it had gotten there.

As I stood there, I tried to go over my day from the moment I had left home until then, but my brain was too busy dealing with the effects of alcohol and lack of sleep. I reached into my pants pocket, and there was the key to the padlock. I had no memory of putting it there either.

Still confused, I unlocked the bike and walked it instead of riding. The screeching of its wheels was like nails on a chalkboard in the quiet night. This prompted me to break the ice and start a thoughtful conversation about inner tubes and brake pads with my old bike. I apologized for neglecting her and then made an old-fashioned joke about men and tools to make her laugh. She didn't seem to find it very funny, but looked at me with complicity and affection.

(To be continued)