—Janelle Lake, Chicago, Ill.
We have lived in our current dream home for seven years, and nearly every day, I thank my lucky stars that I advocated for an attached garage.
When my husband and I were newlyweds, our first apartment in the Windy City of Chicago was near Lake Michigan. We could afford the apartment on the ninth floor with an elevator (fire truck ladders only reach up to the 12th floor, so I was happy). The apartment was so close to the iconic baseball stadium Wrigley Field that we could enjoy quite a bit of culture from the games.
This location also meant that parking rules were very rigid. If my car was even touching the line of our tiny assigned parking spot, we could be (and had been) ticketed.
On one particularly cold and windy night, the ramp up to our parking spot was a solid sheet of ice. I had worked at the Venus Harp factory and seen horribly mangled harps from harpists slipping on ice with their instruments, so I knew the risk I was taking by unloading the harp in these conditions. I turned on the car hazard lights and worked up the nerve to go for it. My husband is a superhero when it comes to moving the harp, but on this night around midnight, after a triple gig December day, he was already asleep with his phone off. I couldn’t leave the car (they might tow!), so I was on my own to unload.
In my full burgundy evening gown and knee-high stiletto boots (had to stay warm!), I used the shovel we keep in our car to clear a patch of snow behind the tailgate. I tipped the harp out of the car just as a Chicago-style blast of wind hit me. The harp started off like a sailboat, but I was ready. I pick-axed my boot heels into the ice and braced the harp.
The only problem: I was stuck. I couldn’t risk letting go of the harp as another gust blew through.
Luckily, a group of (visibly intoxicated) gentlemen walked by at this moment. Most of my life, I have fielded feeble attempts to “help” with a chipper “no thank you” or “for insurance purposes I can’t let you do that.” But…there I was, truly in need of help.
As I hugged the harp (not even on a cart yet), the Good Samaritans slid me and the instrument across the ice to the door of our lobby. All parties got what they wanted—the gentlemen enjoyed some entertainment on their late-night walk home, and I delivered my harp to safety.
As long as I live in the Windy City, I will hold out for the attached garage! •
