Sob Story

Now, I'm not keen on playing the damsel in distress...but I guess falling to my knees and bursting into tears on the sidewalk kind of puts me in that category. I wouldn't have had to do that, though, if I hadn't spent the past hour and a half waiting inside my car with its front bumper kissing the rear bumper of an anonymous truck on a downward slope with a massive ice patch beneath me. I'm not sure if the tow truck I saw driving several blocks away was looking for me and had somehow misunderstood the address I'd given them, or if there were several people needing their services in the area. It's possible. All I know is I might as well have stayed in my car as soon as I'd realized my pickle and waited for the Scotts to come home. Instead, I figured I should walk to the nearest gas station and borrow a phone book. Which I did. I placed the call, then ran the five blocks back so I'd be there before the tow truck arrived. (Oh, and thanks to the random people in the car who put my already-racing heart into overdrive by screeching at me as they drove by. That was super.)
Most people who know me, know that my temper flares most when I'm driving. If they haven't seen it (few have), they've heard stories. Well, this was nothing like that. This was anger so sudden, strong, and fierce, I couldn't even speak. This was frustration so intense I didn't even have the urge to throw something. I was pretty much paralyzed in my seat with a twitching eye. After all, it was nearing 10:00, and I still had two hours to drive. I was already tired, and the road conditions were getting worse and worse the farther south I went; knowing that it was only getting icier and foggier with each passing half-hour made things infinitely more terrible. There was no one in the Scott house...Megan had left her house the same time I had, and the whole family was going to be out for the evening. A few people drove by, but I was so humiliated by my self-made unfortunate circumstance that I ducked down behind my steering wheel and tried to be inconspicuous.
Then, a familiar vehicle drove slowly by and pulled up to the curb on the other side of the truck. I watched with both relief and dread as the Scotts made their way to their house and, one by one, lights turned on at each window. Swallowing my pride, I sauntered up the concrete steps and through the porch door, then knocked timidly. The piano-playing stopped and Megan stepped out, rather shocked to discover that I'd been staked out at their house the whole time they were gone. I was so embarassed, I pulled her by the hand and led her back outside, where the starting line of this blog occurred. Her mom must've wondered who'd kidnapped her daughter, cause she came out a few seconds later. What a pitiful sight it must've been! But they were all wonderful, and Stefan and Megan whipped out their rippling triceps to push me free. Thank you, thank you, thank you Scotts! And thanks, Stefan, for saying you'd swear at the tow-truck guys for me...if they ever showed up.