The luck of the GO was a no-GO for me

Dang, my entry wasn't selected.

For the past month, in advance of St. Patrick's Day, GO Transit ran a contest asking commuters to submit stories of "Good luck on the GO" for a chance to win a Presto Card pre-loaded with 10 GO rides (Congratulations! You get to travel to Exhibition and back! Oh, you live is Stouffville? Sucks to be you!).

I'm bummed my story wasn't one of the three finalists.

Here's what I wrote:

It started with a key, a really late night and a shuttered GO station. I was at the station because I had been dropped off to retrieve my own vehicle after a six-times delayed flight home from a convention and no train would be getting me anywhere considering the hour I had left downtown Toronto.

Someone had lost a set of car keys. They were lying on the ground when I came across them. I won't tell you which GO station on the advice of my lawyer because apparently if you write stuff down it becomes something called evidence which is a load of bull because I write down stuff all the time for my husband to do and none of it gets done and the police aren't helpful at all. Why can't I have him arrested for not cleaning the cat shitter when it says, "clean cat shitter" on that little notepad our local real estate agent likes to leave in our mailbox as "swag"? I'm still stuck with a cat shitter full of shit and no one cares! Not even the fire department. Besides, I didn't do anything wrong that night but Howard Bigfird is an expensive lawyer and I do what he says.

I picked up the keys and inspected them. There were two key fobs on the ring, each one for a different make of vehicle. Key fobs are those clicker things that you point at a car to remotely open its doors.

There was no one to turn the keys into since the station was closed, so I began wondering around the parking lot pressing the door open buttons on both key fobs. Feeling like a gunslinger, I spread my legs apart and fired off each knob one at a time. After about 30 minutes, I heard the click and saw the flicker of headlights from a nearby car. A clunker, really. Don't know the year but it was rusting around the logo and along the fenders. Not only did I find car keys, but I also found the car they belong to! Tell me that's not lucky!? Not for me. For the owner.

I opened the car door and looked inside. What a mess. Packaged food containers were everywhere. Clothes were strewn across the back seat. Wait, before you judge me, I did NOT take the car for a joyride nor did I even think about such a thing. I did, however, take a look in the trunk. I don't know what possessed me to look in the trunk, but I did anyway.

Holy mother of God!

It was empty.

Not sure now what to do with the keys, I decided to put them on the floor of the car and lock the doors. This way, the person gets them back. I didn't particularly care if they had to call a tow truck guy to jimmy the doors. Most likely, there's a spare key and all that's needed is a phone call to a spouse or parent. Right?

I pressed down the door lock and shut the door.

As I was walking over to my SUV, this dark figure appears out of nowhere and comes running towards me. "Hey!" The person yells - a man. "You didn't happen to find a set of car keys did you!?"

Call me paranoid but the first thing I'm thinking because I watch way too much Dateline and read way too many crime/suspense novels is that I'm somehow being set up for a scam.

I yield my rolling suitcase in front of me preparing to use it as a battering ram - Chuck Norris style. I figure I could snap off the handle and use it as a weapon if it came down to that.

Out of breath, this guy, age hard to tell, comes to a dead stop in front of me, panting. He's now leaned over in an attempt to catch his breath.

"Sorry," he says, breathing heavy. "I saw you walk from my car."

Jesus Christ, I thought. Superman? Is that you? I was pretty far away from where this guy could have been standing before he broke into a sprint.

I wasn't sure what to say. I was still working the handle of my rolling suitcase wondering about the best way to force it to break. Don't believe what you see in the movies! That handle wasn't budging. Worst case scenario, I swing the suitcase and knock him out cold.

I had a lot of questions for the guy such as, why are you here at this hour? How did you see me from wherever you were? Why is your car so messy?

I told him I did find the keys and that I locked them in the car.

Suddenly, he goes all Jack Nicholson in the Shining on me. I get ready to start swinging.

"Why didn't you just leave them on the seat with the door open?!" He yells. He's stomping his feet, cursing and flinging his arms around.

I'm standing there, amazed at what I'm seeing.

All this over keys!

Screw this, I thought. I don't owe this guy anything. I back away and move sideways towards my SUV. The guy is too busy ranting and raving to notice I've beelined it to my car. Thankfully, I didn't have to put my key in the ignition and start crying and muttering "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon", urging the car to start. That's the problem with horror films, the cars are always old and unreliable. I threw my SUV into gear and accelerated out of the lot.

'Jack' gave chase for a bit and actually whipped his boot in my direction as I drove away.

Unbelievable, right? I find the guy's keys, which was lucky for him, and this is the thanks I get!? I really hope he submits an entry to this contest, too, because I'd really like to hear his side of the story.