This is the story about the time I got into the wrong car:
It was cold; dusk had just fallen. Underdressed, I walked quickly ahead of the group to the car. The others were wandering down the wrong parking isle. In a hurry to get into the warm car, I called out with a grand wave, “Over here!”
Like magic, the car unlocked. Amazed and pleased by Josey’s unusual promptness, I opened the door and plopped down. As I was about to close the door, I had the strange feeling something wasn’t quite right; an empty coke can on the floor, a different arrangement of crumbs. Just then, three strangers appeared at the car, laughing and looking a little concerned. Before I could connect the pieces, the driver told me gently - and laughingly - that this was, indeed, her car. I thanked them for the ride and got out of their car, my original grand wave replaced by a sheepish flick of the hand.
I crossed the isle to the real car and waited for other people to get in to assure myself I had the correct vehicle.
Even now, it’s hilarious. I keep replaying how confidently I called out, letting everyone know I had found the car; the strangers' expressions as they watched a strange girl get into their car as soon as they unlocked it. I hope they get some mileage out of telling that story.
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