I always stop at Dunkin’ Donuts on my way home from the gym in the morning so I can grab a cup of coffee to go. It usually takes less than five minutes unless I get distracted by the Call of the Munchkins and spend anther five minutes deliberating whether or not to undo all the good I just did working out.
One fine morning I did my coffee run and was able to successfully fight off my Munchkin urges. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing. I walked out with my coffee in hand and a bounce in my step.
But as I got to my car, I stopped dead in my tracks. Apparently, one of those pretty, singing birds bird had flown by while I was inside the donut shop and had desecrated the hood, front bumper and windshield of the car I had just had cleaned, waxed and detailed the day before.
It was so fresh, it was still steaming. Steaming, glops of bird poo all over my formerly clean, shining car.
I was monumentally annoyed.
I took a moment to have a good-sized hissy fit, then I put my coffee down on the curb and went back into Dunkin’ Donuts.
“Can I have a large cup of hot water?” I asked the guy behind the counter.
“Didn’t you just get coffee?” he wondered.
“I don’t want the water to drink,” I said with annoyance. “I want it to clean A BIG BLOB OF BIRD POO OFF MY CAR!”
He nodded in understanding, handed me the water, and a wad of paper towel. Then I bought a dozen munchkins because there was bird poo all over my car and I deserved some darn donuts.
I went back outside, popped a few munchkins, and then I spent the next ten minutes meticulously cleaning all the bird poo off my car. When I was done, my car was returned to its former pristine state, my coffee was cold, and I was in a foul mood. Or maybe it was a fowl mood. Same diff.
After I threw out the large wad of bird poo-covered paper towels, I retrieved my cold coffee, went around to the driver’s side, and pressed my electronic key to unlock the door.
I pressed it several more times. Still, nothing happened. “Great,” I thought. “First my car gets poo’d upon, and now I’m locked out of the car!”
As I started having another good-sized hissy fit, I glanced into the car and saw a bunch of things on the seat that did not belong to me. At first it didn’t register. But then I realized these things did not belong to me because…
… it wasn’t my car.
I looked down the row of parking spaces and saw my car, all bright and shiny, three spaces down.
It slowly dawned on me that I’d cleaned bird poo off of someone else’s car. Lots of bird poo, actually.
Rolling my eyes in resignation, I walked over to my car and was about to open the door, when I heard a splat on the hood.
I didn’t even have to look.