Up On the Roof

Sometimes I’m just clueless. And sometimes I’m brain dead.

I had just stopped at the local Wawa convenience store and picked up a couple cups of coffee for me and my friend Ellen. I wasn’t in a great mood because I’d just come from yoga on a day where downward facing dog described not only one of the hardest poses for me to perform but also how I was feeling about myself that day.

I got into the car and put the key in the ignition and suddenly a car behind me started honking.

Why? My driving isn’t exactly the best but I’ve never yet caused a three car collision before I’ve even started moving.

“He’s nuts!” I thought and I pulled out of the space.

The guy hit the horn again, and I looked around. There’s nobody walking behind me, no car coming in the opposite direction, and no anvil from a Warner Brothers cartoon is about to drop on me.  Fuck him!

I drove out the exit of the Wawa and two more cars sounded their horns. I was going four miles an hour! What harm can I do at a speed like that?  Allow cobwebs to form that impede future traffic?

I gave 'em both the finger.

But when I got on the road, a guy in a pickup truck behind me began blasting his horn. I glanced back and saw a bearded, tattooed guy the size of Paul Bunyan jawing away frantically!

Just what I need - a lumberjack anti-Semite!   

I turned the corner and he followed me and pulled up beside me! Big trouble now, but for what? The lumberjack got out of his car, came up to my open window, and reached out his hands.

My life began to flash before my eyes!  If only I’d had a more interesting life I'd have had a better flashback, but the flashback had just started and already I was up to watching Baywatch in 1994. Great, I’m going to be killed while staring at David Hasselhoff’s pecs, and I’m not even gay!

“Please, at least wait for the end credits!” I cried. “I want to know who does my makeup!”

His hands came closer, ever closer, so close I could hear them breathing, and hands don’t breathe!

But he didn’t lay a hand on me.

“Look, friend, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a few blocks now.   You left two coffee cups on your roof! It’s amazing that they haven’t spilled.”

And he pulled two cups of coffee off the roof and handed them to me.

So that was it. He was a good guy after all. So were the others, all trying to tell me I didn’t have a fiddler on the roof but coffee on the roof.

Sometimes I’m just clueless. And sometimes I’m brain dead.

But from now on I’m going to keep the coffee in the car and not on the car. 

At least until the next time I don’t.

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