Minivan Valet

Nothing like rolling up to the valet in your minivan. Due to the space restrictions and the cool-guy factor, L.A. has more than its share of valets. I cease to be amazed at the places that trot out the valet umbrella and dare to park your car. Whether I'm hitting the town in my Volvo station wagon, or creepin' in the Toyota minivan, good times are to be had when you hit the valet stand.

First, as hard as they try, they can never hide their disdain at having to park a minivan. They act like the Lamborghini's and Porsche's they park are theirs. I know for a fact that that minivan is a heck of lot nicer than the bicycle the valet dude uses to get to work but it doesn't stop them from turning their nose up.

Second, I always forget to clean out the car before pulling up to the valet. I jump out and they valet dude has to move a mountain of diet soda cans and In 'N Out bags just to get his butt behind the wheel. And usually the 'check engine' light is flashing or the tire is making a funny noise or the brake pads are worn to a nub and you can practically hear the sigh as valet dude drives off to the back parking lot/demolition derby where they dump the cars. I just know that my car is the one they park with the nose sticking out so that the Lambo's are kept out of harms way.

My one consolation is that I'm reasonably sure there is no joyriding of the minivan while I run into the restaurant...