I can look back now and laugh. The incident was not funny when it happened.
In the seventies, state in-service was mandatory for homemaking teachers. The Adolphus Hotel in downtown Dallas was our in-service headquarters that particular summer. The Georgetown teachers traveled in two cars, one of which was mine. We arrived in Dallas, entered the parking garage, unloaded our luggage, and checked into the hotel. Our cars were whisked up the ramp and out of sight.
Everything we needed was within walking distance of the hotel. We had no need to get the cars out of the parking garage. My niece worked in the analytical lab for Frito- Lay. She arranged a short tour for us. We took a cab.
Cynthia was in junior high. Our plans for her during that week did not work out, and she was left with no option but to go with me. She was a good sport about it and rather enjoyed the attention. She dressed up and went to some of the sessions that sounded interesting. She still remembers some of them. She recalls being in a small group session on how to respond to compliments. Another day when she was slightly behind our group as we crossed a busy street, some guys in a car whistled at her and asked if she was a homemaking teacher. She really felt grown up and gave them what she thought was a smart answer.
Her cousin treated the two of us to dinner one night. When we returned to the hotel, she said, “I have something for you.” She opened the trunk of her car and there was a huge clear plastic bag full of chips from the Frito- Lay freebie bin. (They no longer have the freebie bin.) The bag must have been at least three feet deep. It had bags of every Frito- Lay product as well as some unlabeled bags of products being developed.* Cynthia carried it and had to hold it up to keep it off the floor. She enjoyed the stares as we walked through the lobby and as we rode the elevator up to our room. She kept a straight face, but I almost got the giggles.
We were anxious to leave as soon as our last session finished. We checked out of the hotel, and with our luggage and chips departed for the parking garage. We hurried across the crosswalk from the entrance area to the waiting area for the exit. My fellow teacher’s car came down almost immediately. Our friends left, and we were assured my car would be “right down.” It was not. We finally moved back out of the way as others moved forward to their cars. Cynthia carefully protected the chips as people pushed in around us. An attendant came over and asked me the make, year model, and color of my car. That was not good. The attendant left assuring me he would be “right back.” By this time, a supervisor was on the scene. He asked me to go with an attendant into the garage and point out my car. I could hear the disbelief in my fellow teacher’s voice as she whispered to Cynthia, “They can’t find the car.” We found my car.
We were anxious to be gone, but it was not to be.
I realized that we were in really big trouble when I was handed a box of keys and asked to pick out my key. They were serious! I remained calm and told them I could not find my key. They all looked alike to me. The car was a Buick, so another attendant began picking out all of the General Motors keys. I still did not recognize my key. They explained that my key had apparently been put on a generic ring with no identification.
I began trying to call Ken. (There were no cell phones then.) This was a Friday afternoon. His travel schedule often meant that he did not return to Austin until late Friday. Fortunately, he was in his office. He gave them the number of his key. They were preparing to call a Buick dealer and get another key when they found my key.
The garage had cleared by this time. The attendants were not as busy and were enjoying watching the cute teenager waiting with a bag containing enough chips to feed all of them. When the car came finally in sight, they all scrambled to help us. They did not let us lift a finger as they carefully put our luggage into the trunk. The chips went in last. They did not break a single chip.
After more than two hours, we got on our way. We arrived safely in Georgetown, unloaded the car, propped our feet up and relaxed while munching on chips.
*Some of the unlabeled bags contained what would later be marketed as Doritos. Yes, there was a time when there were no Doritos on the market.