How not to break into a car

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the hot girl waiting for me back at the hotel. Maybe it was just plain stupidity. Whatever it was, it caused me to lock my keys in my car. I ran up to the nearest gas station the other night to get beer before the 2am cut-off. The place was fairly packed from all the people fleeing the bar after last call to keep their buzz going. I pushed my way to the back coolers and grabbed a couple cases of beer. I then went out to my car and popped the back window to dump the beer. In my struggle, I dropped the case of beer that was in bottles (figures) and spilled beer all over the parking lot. As I stared at the broken glass on the ground, I felt an odd feeling of some obvious foreshadowing. I'm not ignorant, so I cleaned up the glass and loaded my truck. I closed the back window and headed to the door. Then I grabbed for my keys to find out there were no keys. Five pockets, no keys. I checked the garbage where I tossed the glass, thoroughly, to no avail. Fuck. I rechecked my pockets, and then I rechecked the garbage. Five minutes later I rechecked the car doors only to see my keys dangling in the ignition. Fuck. Me. I borrowed a screwdriver from the gas attendant knowing how easy it is to pop the back lock of a truck. Yeah, not as easy as I remember. Motherfucker. After fucking up my lock, I went back to borrow a hanger. This metal wire kept me occupied for about a half-hour. It was flimsy enough to pretend to hit the lock or open the handle and give me hope, then bend to destroy my hope. Even some crackheads came to help out. After I told them I spent all my cash on beer and I 'lost' my phone, they stopped helping. I guess they decided not to rob me. I don't think I would have cared much at that point. My breaking point eventually presented itself. It said hello. I said hi back. Then I choked it like it was trying to swallow my soul. I went into the gas station and asked for a 'blunt object'. I planned to thrust said blunt object into the little triangle window to finally grant myself access into my own fucking truck. It ended up being this metal cane/rod that defaced my car, and mutilated my left hand. While breaking my window, I threw my hand straight through it and yanked it back out. Appearantly, I'm what the doctors call a 'gusher'. I assume so anyway, since I never actually went to a doctor. I decided it was a better idea to wrap my hand in a wifebeater and go get laid. Then my phone decided I didn't really need a signal that night. So I go across the street to the gas station so I can call this girl so she can let me in the hotel. I get in to find out that there will be no sex had. My hand hurt too bad for me to even care. So as I sit here at work typing this out, my hand (from my index finger to the web to my thumb) is in shreds. Maybe I should get a bandaid.