Three hours later, my best friend Bri, had talked me into tanning and having a relaxing spa day, to make up for the trauma I had endured earlier. Of course I agreed, knowing that wallowing would only make it worse.
I pulled up to the spa in my cute little black neon. I adjusted my shirt, and headed inside. Bri was waiting in a black leather chair reading the latest Cosmo.
We got to the tanning booths. I stripped off my tank top and shorts quickly. I awkwardly began to slather myself in extra deep tanning oil. As I went to gently get on the bed I completely slid off, hitting my head hard on the wall. Feeling the large knot on my head, I will admit, I got just a bit frustrated.
I snuck up on the tanning bed and skillfully dove on and yet again I slid off.
This time, my left foot caught on the handle that pulls down the top of the bed. I heard the loudest crack ever and saw in horror that I had ripped the top of the bed off one of its hinges. It was now lopsided. This is bad.
Being the quick and resourceful thinker I am, I quickly panicked. I began to wipe down the bed, so my telltale oil stains wouldn’t be evident. I threw back on my clothes, and did what any other person would do.
“Um I think you gave me a broken bed”, I stated while I stared unflinchingly at her.
“What bed number?” she asked raising an eyebrow.
“Bed # 4. It’s half off its hinges”, I said with a confidence that I could get away with it. She checked out the bed. Seeing it was broken she led you to what you thought would be a new bed. It was in fact an office.
“I just have to rule you out as the person that broke it”. She popped in the tape for Bed # 4 and watched my entire performance.
A copy was sent to my parents and I left the spa with a $2000 bill which paid for a long list of things – to fix the hinge, to pay for the copy of the tape, for cleaning the oil off the wall and floor, and for my time in tanning on Bed # 4.
What a wonderful day.