A friend and I drove to the Twin Cities this week. Our meeting was in a newer office building downtown. We could park in the nearby outdoor lot or the underground lot, whichever we preferred.
Spying the sign for the underground lot first, I pulled in. The garage door opened automatically. I drove into the dark cavern, slowing at several empty parking spaces and noting that all were marked reserved. Stopping at the posted stop sign, I realized I had pulled up alongside a counter. "It's valet parking," the man responded quickly and kindly to my puzzled look.
I gathered the belongings I needed, handed him my keys, then started looking for the exit. "What's the address?" he asked, then smiled at my friend's reply. "Right through that door and onto the elevator," he said. "You're in the basement."
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