Today as we were leaving the Brazilian Consulate in San Francisco, where we went to get our visas for the summer, I asked Allison “where are my keys?”. She smiled, thinking I was kidding. But I wasn’t.
I looked in the bathroom at the consulate, on the seats where we were sitting, on the counters, asked a consulate attendant to ask the lady who had helped us… nothing. So we walked the few blocks back to the parking lot, tracing our path backwards, walking past the subway where we were planning to stop as we were both starving… and finally found the keys in the car passenger side seat where I had been sitting and where they had fallen off my pockets… That’s the familiar Keys Dance.
Then Allison got back on the driver seat. I turned on the GPS and set it to take us to Napa, where we were going for a conference. ‘Make your first right’, I told Allison. ‘Again make your first right’. ‘Again make your first right’. Oops.. the GPS is taking us back to the Brazilian consulate… not where we’re going…
