Rapid City nice ...

If I lived in a cartoon world, my head would be doing a 360 on my shoulders these days – non-stop.

But this isn’t a cartoon world. It’s simply been a couple of weeks of one hurdle to jump over after another, and I’ve stumbled a couple of times along the way … literally thanks to the slippery landscape the recent winter weather has gifted us.

As I mentioned in last week’s column, the COVID bug bit me and put me on the “sidelines” for the greater portion of that week. Then, toss in a move, which was delayed by the snowstorm of the season followed by a trip to Rapid City for the state wrestling tournament, and no wonder I’m leaving things behind or forgetting where I placed something.

All of those things combined are making good fodder for this edition of Jill’s Journal. I invite you to laugh with me or if you so choose, sympathize with me. At this point, I’ll take what I can get.

After coming away from some exciting high school wrestling action over two days – my arrival at the tournament was postponed by a day – I was ready to settle in for a night of comfort at the hotel. But before I slid into my comfy pajamas, I had a hankering for the Olive Garden, so I steered the Buick down the road. The place was packed, so I zipped up to the “carryout counter,” put in my order for pasta and salad and was told it would be about a 20-minute wait.

As I said, the place was packed, so I opted to wait it out in the Buick and pass the time by giving a friend a call to give my mat-side recap report. In no time at all, my phone buzzed: My order was ready.

I eagerly hopped out of the Buick, hit the lock button and then remembered I stupidly tossed the keys on the passenger seat.

Hmmmm.

I inquired inside what folks in Rapid City do what I just did – who should I call?

“Olson Towing,” the friendly cashier told me, getting a confirmed yes from another customer standing nearby and overhead my dilemma.

As I began to pull up their contact info, the imaginary lightbulb popped up: ‘Jill, the hotel you’re staying at has a concierge service.’

I dialed up the hotel, shared my woeful story, and asked the friendly guy on the phone if he’d grab my purse in my room, which contains my other key fob. He quickly obliged my request, and a half hour later, he drove up to Olive Garden with my purse in tow.

He was my hero of the night.

Fast-forward a couple of hours, this old gal decided a bag of M&Ms from the vending machine down the hallway was in order. Decked out in my jammies and room card in hand, I plunked a couple of dollar bills in the machine, grabbed the goods and headed back to the room to nibble on the chocolatey treat. The room card, however, had other ideas.

I swiped the room card once. No green light. I did it a second, a third and even a fourth time, and still no greenlight. No access. Notta.

Knowing I surely wasn’t going to spend the night in the hallway, I defeatedly made my way down to the front desk and announced, ‘This just isn’t my night.’ Ironically so, the hero who had rescued me from the Olive Garden a few hours earlier was behind the desk. As it turns out, they’d been having some issues with the room cards in recent days, and I just happened to “win the room card lottery.”

With a reloaded room card in hand, I sheepishly made my way to the elevator, hit the button for floor five and concluded that the folks in Rapid City are well, Rapid City nice.

Thanks for the hospitality, Rapid City. I’ll be back.