so I says to Mable I says

Last night I pulled up to the front driveway of the hotel. Not the one that leads to the left and into the dimly lit parking structure, but the marble tiled driveway that leads to the grand front lobby. I drove my dingy old Civic right up to the curb, opened the door and stepped out. I went to the backseat, grabbed my purse and jacket and my event boxes and slammed the door shut.

One of the valet runners walked up to me, "Good evening. How can I help you?"

"Um... can you just park it?"

"Oh, uh... yeah. L-l-l-et me get you a claim ticket." He fumbled in his pocked, produced a perforated card with my claim number on it and stared at me blankly.