I was walking to my car the other day when I spied an orange rectangle sticking out from under my windshield whipper.
This caused two very unpleasant sensations for me: one, when my heart stopped because I thought I had gotten a ticket and was going to have to argue that “helloooo I have a parking tag hanging right there from my rear view mirror, RIGHT THERE,” and, two, when I became spiteful and swore vengeance on the person who idiotically decided to print a flyer on the same orange colored paper as parking tickets, which I soon realized was the real identity of the rectangle.
And what was I gonna do with that flyer? I sure wasn’t going to read it. Then an awfully sneaky idea crept into my head: I’ll just place it on someone else’s windshield. They already have one flyer, another can’t hurt them, right?
I turned to the car next to mine, and as I’m lifting up its windshield whipper, a woman approaching from the distance catches my eye.
She’s looking right at me. Very obviously. She had that look people give you when they recognize you.
I kept thinking, “Why does she keep acting like she knows me? Do I know her? I’m pretty sure I don’t know her,” all the while tucking my flyer under the flyer already on the car next to me. I replace that car’s windshield whipper, and climbed into my own car.
I’m preparing for takeoff, when I look up and lock eyes with the woman‐from‐a‐distance as she’s climbing into the car next to me.
The car I had just placed my flyer on.
But really, what were the odds?