Menchies

            This past summer my sorority big, Ashley, flew in to Seattle to stay with my family and me for a week. Of course we set out on many predicable touristic excursions throughout the week, however there is one night that remains particularly memorable to me.

Characteristic of every night, I became hungry at ten o’clock.

“Hey Biggle?” I asked with joy, being that joy is the only logical emotion to accompany the pronunciation of the word “Biggle”, “Would you be interested in taking a trip to Menchies for some froyo?”

“Of course, Little,” she responded contented,  “you should already know the answer to that question.”

Soon thereafter, the two of us arrived at Menchies. I was sporting my polka dot pajama pants and Ashley was snuggled up in an oversized sweatshirt. Fitting to the carefree vibe of the night, we each served ourselves a mountain of frozen yogurt, candies, diced fruit, and sauce—hot fudge for me, marshmallow for her. Soon realizing how unhealthy we appeared to the general public, we decided to take our frozen yogurt creations with us and drive to a nearby park to eat our dessert.

We had parked in a long, dark parking lot running parallel to the frequently traveled Fauntleroy Way. Time quickly escaped us as we bonded and gossiped, the way one would imagine two sorority girls with frozen yogurt to do. Suddenly, a large vehicle with a bright light, expected of a police car, slowly began to approach my little Toyota Camry. Being the driver, I promptly became paranoid; seeing that I would be the one confronted if I accidently were do have done something wrong. As the vehicle drove closer to the two of use, the bright spot light on the side of the vehicle moved to shine directly through my windshield. We must have looked like two deer in the headlights, staring dumbfounded at the dark mass in the driver seat. After stopping in front of my car and succeeding at raising both of our pulses, the apparent white pickup truck drove past my car and up onto the park path way.

“Park security sure is creepy here in Seattle,” stated Ashley, relieved yet still uneasy.

“Yeah, I wonder what that’s about,” I responded.

Unsettled by the eerie nature of the security truck, Ashley and I decided that the two of us wanted to head back home. I quickly switched my car to drive, and proceeded to head out the south gate of the lot. To our surprise, the gate was closed and locked. “That’s strange,” I commented to Ashley, “Good thing there’s another gate.”

I turned my car around a headed toward the north gate. As we approached the north gate—that which both my car and the security truck entered from—we noticed that it too had been closed and locked.

“Biggle…” I spoke in denial, “It would appear that we are locked in. The security truck must have locked the gate behind him once he entered”.

“What are we going to do?” she responded.

            After we both scanned our minds for a logical solution, it became clear that our only option was to drive my car off-terrain onto Fauntleroy Way. With Ashley’s trust and support, I accelerated my two-wheel drive vehicle up over the curb and onto the grass. Seeing that my car and the two of us had thus far survived, I continued accelerating past the trees attempting to dodge any hidden rocks that could do harm to my car. Within a few more seconds, I was able to clear the terrain and bumpily return back to the road.

            Ashley and I both broke into hysteric laughter, amazed that such an innocent trip to Menchies had turned into such an adventure. To this day the mentioning of Menchies is always accompanied with some laughs and a smile between my adorable Biggle and me.