Commercial Perfect

Locked.  The car doors were locked.  We were in our workout clothes standing outside the gym.  We stood in the lite drizzle staring at one another and the car doors.  We had closed the doors and locked them.  Good.

However . . .  Our keys were in the car.  Jessica's were in her purse on the front console.  Mine were in my assault pack sitting on the back seat.

20 minutes latter we stood outside, huddled under a small, multi-colored umbrella watching a Corporal from the Provost Marshal's Office (military police) use a slim jim on the car door.  As we stood there, in the rain, a woman in gym clothes came out to her car.  Her car was parked next to ours.  She did not have any purse or keys.  She walked to the hatchback door, put her thumb to a small reader on the handle, unlocked the doors, pulled a bag out and ran back into the gym.

I will be buying a fingerprint car when I get back to the states.