"Hi, John. Can you come pick me up?"
"Sure...I didn't know you had this number...?"
"I didn't, I called the office. You left your cell phone in your room."
Fine, so I go home and get him, and we go off to the airport, except that on 94 I blow my front left tire (like explode blow, not like flat blow) and yet somehow we survive. So we (well, mostly Dave, actually, while I was having a remarkably annoying conversation with AAA) changed the spare on, and got him to the airport in plenty of time. Great.
So then after a really stressful drive home (people are REMARKABLY unsympathetic to the need to drive under 60 with a spare...) I locked my keys in my car and had to go get the apartment spare from the office on foot so that I could open my room, so that I could get my spare car key.
::sigh:: And now I'm expecting to get work done....riiiiight.