the way it goes

I left work a little late yesterday, mostly because someone in the building opened a package only to find it filled with a suspicious white powder. We all stood out in the parking lot for an hour, watching the arrival and, eventually, the departure of seven fire trucks, an ambulance, and the hazmat van.

I had driven about a mile on the highway that goes to my brother's house when all the warning lights on my dashboard lit up. "Like a Christmas tree," I thought, as I realized that, no matter how hard I pushed on the accelerator, the car kept going slower and slower. It finally came to a stop at the very edge of the breakdown lane. Every time a car drove past, I could feel my own car shudder. I called AAA, only to learn that they weren't authorized to tow cars from that particular stretch of highway. Deciding I'd probably be safer standing on the side of the road, I got out on the passenger side and climbed over the Jersey barrier, wondering idly if, in New Jersey, traffic dividers were called by some other name. I was wearing what turned out to be a far-too-short skirt, and I thought of something someone had said recently: "Always wear clean underwear in case you're in a car accident." I called a towing company and stood there waiting, kicking at little at the rocks and scattered pieces of trash. Another car broke down on the other side of the highway and I watched a truck come and tow it away.

"What else could possibly go wrong?" I asked myself. In the movies, especially in a certain type of low-budget comedy, when someone asks that question there's usually an immediate crash of thunder, followed by a drenching downpour. But, although the sky was crowded with clouds and I had to cross my arms to keep warm, not a single drop of rain fell. Probably it was because I had an umbrella.