Another Cat Show Adventure

I can't go to a cat show without a bit of adventure.  Went to Albuquerque without too much incident (except for Super Pooper having ingested a disagreeable treat and demonstrating its digestive properties in Adriana's ring).  Sharron and I thought the adventure struck when we ran out of gas in the rain in Amarillo on the way home, but OnStar made that too easy.   We had fresh Starbuck's (coffee being higher on my priority list than gas) and a book to listen to, we laughed, we looked things up on Sharron's Zoom, we took this opportunity to get to know my "new" Equinox (like finding the hazard light button which ended up being front and center on the control panel), so we had fun for the first 45 minutes waiting for free gas to be delivered.  Then it wasn't so much fun, but still, it hardly qualifies as adventure when a young guy in a red sports car brings you free gas an hour after the first "Oh, shit."

After dropping Sharron off at her car in Mineral Wells, I had let Leo out of his carrier to use the litterbox, and he has a good kitty for the first two hours.  Then we ran into another rain storm.  Hotty (still in the larger kennel with litterbox) and Leo began crying loudly as the rain increased.  Just as it was getting really intense between Marble Falls and Round Mountain, Leo decided he needed to visit me in the front seat.  Or maybe the dash right in front of my face.  Not good conditions for driving.  I can't see through cats.

So I pulled into the Shell station at Round Mountain to shelter under the pump awning while putting Leo back in his carrier.  I didn't want to get out of the car with him in my arms for fear he'd go ballistic and scramble onto the road.  So I was clever.  I got out and slipped into the back seat by his carrier.  It was a great plan.  Slip back there, wiggle my fingers at him in the Come-Get-Lovin gesture, put him away and continue slogging home through the rain.

Leo didn't respond to my finger wiggles.  Or my coaxing voice.  Nope.  Leo crawled back onto the dash, locking the doors on the way up.  When it was clear that I was going to have to get back in the front seat to get him, I opened the door.  Well, not so much.  It was locked.  I unlocked it.  Again, not so much.  The child lock was on.

Leo had locked me in the back seat.  He sat on the dash blinking at me as I expressed my opinion of this situation.

Now, for a young, nimble, thinner person, this might not be so adventuresome.  No biggy, right?  Just crawl between the front seats back to the front.  Problem solved in a few seconds.

But I am fifty-three years old, I had been driving all day so my body was pretty much stuck in that position without serious coaxing, and the space between the two front seats is smaller than me.

I considered my options.  1.  Take a nap and wait for someone to come along and open the doors for me.  (But what if I really had to pee before that happened?  Also, I wanted to be home and in my comfy bed.)  2. Call On-Star again if I could reach the button.  ("Hello, this is the idiot who ran out of gas in Amarillo, and now I am stuck in the back seat because my cat locked me in."  3.  Contort my way back to the front seat.

Being an active problem solver, I chose option 3.

Now I could be writing this from the back seat, having failed, but I'm not, so I was obviously successful, but let me just say that I'm glad there is no video.  At least I hope there's no video.  Do gas stations have security cameras at the pumps?

I figured I could get put my knee on the cushioned compartment between the seats, slide it forward while propelling the rest of me above the seat backs and bring my other leg forward to step onto the passenger seat and plop my butt in the drivers seat, gracefully tucking my legs back under the steering wheel.  I visualized this happening.  It was like a ballet.  I'm not sure whose body I was visualizing doing this, but it wasn't mine.

I got my knee on the cushion.  It didn't slide.   There was no sliding.  No way.   I attempted to lift it and bring it forward, but my back and the roof of the car got in the way of lifting.  I could barely lift it an eighth of an inch, and my jeans kept sticking to the vinyl.  Finally, after creeping that knee forward a centimeter at a time, I was ready to bring my other leg forward.  Well, there was no room to bring my other leg forward.  I told it to come on forward.  It refused.  I could see what was coming if I continued to insist that my leg move forward:  I would be stuck, ass up, between the two seats, and the paramedics would have to be called to rescue me.  As much as I enjoy being rescued by paramedics after doing stupid things, I didn't want to be in this particular position when I was discovered by the people who would have to call the paramedics.

I grabbed the head rests and heaved my butt past the seats.  Okay.  So now I was kneeling on one knee between the seats with my butt in front and my right leg still stretched out behind me.  Well, just tuck it, bring it forward, step on the passenger's seat and be done, right?  Easy for you to say.  I tried.  Again, that is someone else's body that can manage that maneuver. I decided to just tilt my body sideways and fall into the passenger seat.  I scooted all the stuff from the seat to the floor and did it.  Amazingly enough, this worked.  There was no "just" about it, but a lot of heaving and straining and grunting instead. 

So there I was, butt in the passenger seat, shoulders against the door, legs twisted, feet still in the back.  Not a position for a comfortable snooze.  I had to stay there for several minutes, however, as I caught my breath.  Leo was now cowering on the corner of the dash, squished up against the window as far as he could get from me, still blinking as I thanked him for getting me in this position.

It really would have been easy from here to just twist around so my legs were in all that leg room space if that space weren't occupied by all the stuff that had been on the seat.  There was still leg room on the driver's side, so I aimed my legs for that.  Then I inch-wormed my butt and the rest of my body over the hump and into the seat.

Piece of cake.

I scruffed Leo, opened the car doors, and put him in his carrier, thinking how easy it would have been to do that in the first place.  "Well," I told him, "at least now I have enough adrenaline to make it home."