Embarrassing Moment at the Bank . . . Very Embarrasing!

I guess I'm ready to tell the story. I can't believe I'm telling it, because it's so embarrassing.  Oh man.  Last week one day, I made dinner for a friend who just had surgery.  I take it over to her.  I l look like, well, you know:  No make up, food-spotted clothes (from cooking), hadn't combed my hair since  morning. . . not good.  I decide since I'm already out, I'll run a couple of errands on my "to do list." ( Dang "to do list.")  I drop off some dry cleaning, then go to the drive-through at the bank.  I pull up real close to the post at the bank so I won't have to get out to get the tube. ( Dang tube.)  (Dang lazy me)  So I take care of my business at the bank and then try to start my car.  Click.  I try again.  Click.  Again, click, again, click,   . . ., well you get the picture. I just drove here- why isn't my car starting???  Okay, what do I do?  I try to get out of the car.  Nope, too close to the post.  I can't even get the door partway open.  I get in my purse to get my cell phone and remember I left my cell phone home on my dresser.   I can feel the panic rising in my throat.  I've read that phrase in books.  Now I know what it feels like to have panic rising in your throat.  I. AM. STUCK!  " Stay calm, Kay.  Stay calm," I tell myself over and over.  "Okay,I'll try to climb out the other door."   I can't.  I can't get over the middle hump.  I. AM. STUCK!  I pray and pray.  I try to start the car again, and again.  Click. Click.  I try the door again.  Nope.  I try not to panic.  I try not to cry.   What do I do?   I meekly push the call button. and say, "I'm stuck."  Oh man. Can you say humiliation?   About then, the guy in the next lane over sees my predicament and says he has cables and will come and jump my car.  Then two guys from the bank come out.  Their plan is to push my car out of the way and get me some help.  I can't get it in neutral.  I can't find the lever to pop the hood.  One of the bank guys has to reach through the window to pop my hood.  Humiliating.  Meanwhile, many other cars come to the drive through.  All watch.  I look at the window of the bank.  Employees are gathered, watching.  A guy in one of the other cars calls out,  "Hey, could you change my oil?"  One of the bank guys responds, "Sure, we're a full service bank."  The nice jeep guy comes over and attaches his cables.  He says, "Give it a try."  Oh, blessed, blessed relief.  The car starts.  He unhooks his cables and closes the trunk. My only goal in life right then is to get out of there. . . or at least get away from that pole!   I wave and thank them all and drive away, praying hard that the car will keep going and that none of them will recognize me if they ever see me again. It takes hours for my heart to calm down.  When Ken gets home, I don't even let him get inside the house before I start telling him the story.  I tell him we're going to have to move. . . .or at least change banks.  He tries to comfort me by telling me that it will  make a good blog post.  I hope he's right.