It was a dark and stormy night. Wind carried the torrential downpour sideways in relentless sheets.
And I was out delivering pizzas despite the fact that I couldn’t see ten feet in front of my face.
I was forced to trust the GPS with its insistence that I was on the correct road. I drove past town home after town home, connected to each other in stretches of four and identical except for the address number that was no longer visible through the storm.
The buildings were shaped strangely. It wasn’t a problem for residents, who undoubtedly just parked in their garage and entered their homes that way. For the pizza guy, however, the layout of these apartments was a major complication. The “front door” was on the backside of the building, facing 180 degrees away from the road and garages.
There was no pulling around the building. To get to these doors, one has to walk on a quaint little stepping stone pathway between one block of town homes and the next. For every intentional pathway there was a corresponding untrodden route, wild with bushes and shrubbery (probably well landscaped and pretty when viewed outside of the squall). Unable to tell the difference between paved paths and flowerbeds in the inclement weather, I unwillingly opted to trudge through the underbrush rather than taking the easy way.
Running didn’t make a single bit of difference in how drenched I was as I barreled through plants and branches that lashed out at me in the wind. When I emerged from what felt like a vengeful rainforst, I saw them:
Three teenagers passing a bottle of liquor.
They nearly jumped out of their damned skins at the emergence of a drenched, angry looking guy spouting profanity from a bush that they knew wasn’t intended to be traversed.
Hopefully one of them has a popular blog where they recounted this story from their point of view. My perspective was frustrating, but their’s was probably hilarious.