How to make an idiot of yourself at an IL reststop in one easy step.

Monday night I headed down to Chicago for the Social Media Masters Summit - at least the night-before portion of it as I had to work today. (I know - that pesky day job keeps interfering with my bloggy networking.) It was a long drive down and back but was totally worth it as I finally got to meet this lovely lady, reconnect with one of my favorite bloggers, and meet tons of new ladies (and some gentlemen!).

There is a rest stop about halfway down to Chicago where I almost always take a break, stretch my legs and hit Starbucks. It's a bit unusual as far as rest stops go in that it hangs over the highway which makes it accessible from both sides.

Those of you from the area are probably pretty familiar with it (and I seem to remember a grocery store in the Boston area that did the same thing - was it over the Mass Pike, maybe?). The view from inside is pretty cool.

I stopped on the way down, did a couple of laps around the inside to stretch my legs, grabbed an iced coffee and got back on the road without a problem.

On the way back home, I was not so lucky. I repeated the same routine - a couple of laps around the rest stop, hit Starbucks, and back out to the car.

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But wait!

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The car was gone.

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I stood there for a minute trying to remember where I had parked. It was about 9:30 at night, so the rest stop wasn't that busy and I had scored a spot right near the door. (Yes, I get the irony of parking near the door and then doing laps around the inside to get some exercise - I never claimed to be logical.)

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I stared in disbelief at the empty spot where I knew I had left my car. I was having a hard time processing the fact that my car. was. gone. I must have had a strange look on my face because a young couple stopped and asked me if I was alright. Or maybe it was the fact that I was standing in the middle of the parking lot, staring at an empty spot with my mouth hanging open.

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I stammered out the story of how I knew I had left my car there and now it was gone and it must have been stolen, yada yada yada when the young man started laughing. I think my mouth fell open even more before I clamped it shut and gave him a glaring what-the-hell-are-you-laughing-at look. His girlfriend/wife-type person looked horrified and began to try and get him to stop laughing at the poor lady with the stolen car.

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He managed to calm himself down enough to suggest that perhaps I had parked on the other side of the rest stop and simply went out the wrong door.

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I immediately realized that he was right. I had walked out of the same door that I had exited earlier on my trip down to Chicago and was, once again, standing in the southbound lot while my car was parked safe and sound (and close to the door) in the northbound lot.

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I stuttered a quick thank you and practically ran through the rest stop to climb into my car and race away from all the people who I knew had to be asking themselves "just how ditsy was that chick?"