One evening I was asked to be the Palm Reader at a big hotel downtown, for either a girls soccer state championship, or basketball, I can’t recall, except it was for a lot of girls.

Now I’m from California, and the mid-west late fall weather was still somewhat of an unknown to me. I was stressed about how many layers of clothing I had to put on before leaving the house, and went outside on the back steps to check out the temperature. I decided, ‘not that cold’, so chose to wear a dress, regular hose, and a coat.

I figured I could park at a metered space, right near the hotel, and would not need cash, because they quit checking the meters after 6pm. There was a five-dollar bill sitting on my dresser, and at the very last moment, something told me to pick it up, even though I figured I wouldn’t need cash. I put it in my purse.

When I got downtown, an area I was not familiar with, I tried to find a parking space near the hotel. I’d underestimated the number of guests attending this function, and was dismayed to find no on street parking within blocks of my destination. I saw a parking garage and not wanting to be late for my event, I drove in.

The first thing was the charge. Exactly five dollars. I thanked my angels for telling me to pick up that bill off my dresser.

The garage was packed. I drove around, and around, and around, going from one level to another before finally finding an empty space.

Somehow or the other, I was completely turned around. I thought I should be on the top levels, instead I found myself in an elevator that only had “up” buttons.

I took the stairs, and only then realized I’d been driving ‘down’ the levels, not ‘up’, and was in reality parked on the bottom level. Duh…

When I got to the street, I tried to recall where the hotel was in relation to where I was standing. I began walking. It was dark, and, I soon realized, much colder than I was prepared for. The wind was freezing, and I could feel the grit blowing on my unprotected legs. Then, to make matters worse, after walking an entire block, I realized I was walking in the opposite direction from where I needed to go.

Quickly, I reversed direction, retracing my steps as briskly as I could in high heels. I was feeling the cold, and was alarmed at myself for being out here underdressed for the weather. I realized there was probably a ten-degree difference between the temperature on my back steps and downtown Minneapolis.

The hotel was packed with girls, and they all lined up to have their palms read. I worked steadily for three hours, and then it was midnight, time to leave.

Two fellow entertainers were there as well, but they were parked way off in another direction, so we said goodnight and they went on their way.

My coat over my arm, I took the escalator up to the second floor, figuring to stand at the window and plot my way back to the garage where I left my truck. I knew it was about two or maybe three blocks away from the hotel. I’d been a little disoriented when I left the parking garage, so I needed to make good and sure I knew exactly in which direction to head, and from which door I’d entered the hotel. I knew it was colder now than when I came in, and I was not looking forward to braving the elements during my walk back to the garage. I suppose I could have called a cab, except I didn’t have cash, and I didn’t think they’d accept my ATM card.

So, I was standing at the window when I heard the elevator doors open.

I looked to see who was there, because by now I thought I was probably the only person left in the hotel, and was (pleasantly) surprised to see a security guard looking squarely at me. He was big, black, around 50 or so, and he walked directly over to where I stood.

“You’re lost,” he said by way of opening, and even though I wasn’t exactly lost, for some reason I just nodded my head in agreement. He asked, “where are you parked?”

“In some underground parking garage a few blocks from here,” I answered (unsure of the name of the garage, or its address, but knowing I’d recognize it when I saw it).

He nodded. “Follow me.”

With absolutely no hesitation, I fell into step with him. He marched along at a good pace, and I had to walk fast to keep up with him. I thought at any moment he would stop and point me in the right direction.

He did not make idle chitchat. I half expected to hear something about women and directions, but he was quiet. Nor do I recall him smiling. But the one thing however I did notice was that I felt so safe with him beside me as we walked the deserted hallways. Really, really safe.

He walked me down one skyway after another, and, as we’d reach the end of one connection between buildings, I expected him to stop and point me in the right direction, like every other security guard I’d ever gotten directions from. But no, we kept walking.

We got into an elevator and descended to street level. As we exited whatever building we were in, I realized he’d taken me, via the skyways, to a point directly across the street from where I was parked.

At that point I expected him to say, okay, your garage is right there, and let me go on alone, but he didn’t. He walked me across the street, into the garage, and down the elevator, where we emerged on the bottom floor. My truck was the only vehicle there. The entire garage was completely deserted.

He walked me over to my truck, then waited for me to start it. I thanked him, and drove away, looking back to see if he disappeared, because at that point I was sure he was an angel, but, he got into the elevator, just like a real person would do.

Driving home I had the nicest, warmest feeling about what he’d done for me. Without being asked, he escorted me right to my truck, and I only had to be outside as we crossed the street! He led me through a maze of skyways I never would have dared to use, and then walked me through that deserted garage.

I thought about how when I heard the elevator, I looked over, watched the doors open, and saw him standing there, looking me directly in the eye, almost like I was the sole purpose for him being there.

How did he know I wasn’t a hotel guest, that I was in need of direction, or the exact parking garage I was looking for? That sweet, warm, protected feeling lasted, the night; and when I think back on it, lasts to this day, many years later.

The next morning I called the hotel, wanting to thank him for his thoughtfulness the night before. The person I spoke with told me he did not know who I was talking about, he thought he might know, but was not sure.

To this day, I don’t know if he was really a security guard or an angel, or perhaps someone sent by an angel to guide me. But whoever he was, his kindness certainly made a lasting impression on me.