Keys keys keys

Tuesday was a weird day, and it all revolved around keys. I realized 3/4 of the way to work that I had forgotten my office & house keys. Not good, especially as I needed to leave early to go to a wedding that night (more on that in a bit). As I'm contemplating the prospect of retracing my path, I happily remembered the friend of mine in town who works here too.

A coupla phone calls later, and buddy is stopping by my house to get my keys - thankfully we have different enough hours that he hadn't left yet. Get the security guys to open the door, and an hour later (as I'm running to an offsite meeting) I get my keys from buddy, and all is well again.

Until that evening. We shlep out to Williamsburg - not the one in Virginia where they wear the funny hats and clothes. On second thought, the Williamsburg in Brooklyn is chock full of people wearing funny hats & clothes. Something like these gents. The wedding itself was fine - our neighbors down the block married off their daughter, and they're lovely people. We only stayed for the ceremony, as I'm still recovering from the tonsillitis and we needed to get rest.

So I go out to the valet and ask for my car. Again, keys. So three different guys head out to search the streets of Brooklyn for my car. There's no parking lot, so they just park on the street. Presumably, they normally write down the location of the car, but I guess this time they chose not to. Half an hour later, after I've seen the third valet run past the driveway of the hall, I'm getting a little nervous. They did finally return with the car, so we didn't have to walk 20 miles home.

And yet, the story continues. I get home, I'm gathering all the crap out of the car, and I see keys wedged between my seat and the center console. I dig them out, and are they the Mrs.' as I thought? Oh no, they are keys to an Acura. Which we don't own. I'm thinking at this point that some other guest is now stuck in Williamsburg without their keys. So I call the wedding hall, and finally get someone on the phone. The conversation proceeds:

ME: One of your knucklehead (yes I used that term) valets left someone's keys in my car.
GUY: Oh. Can you bring them back here?
ME: Umm, NO! I'm home on Long Island?
GUY: Well, OK, let me check on it and call you back

5 mins later the phone rings:

GUY: OK, the keys are one of the valet's - can they come out to get them in an hour or two?
ME: Sure, I'm going to bed, but I'll leave them in the mailbox
GUY: Great - what's your address?
ME: Address
[Fumbling with mapquest on his end]
GUY: I can't find it; T-L-Y
ME: No, P-L-Y
GUY: OOOOHHHHHH! You mean ply mouth street
ME: Uh, yeah, that's it. Exactly

I put the keys in the box, and when I checked the next AM they were gone & there was a thank-you note, so I guess somebody got their car at some point.