No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded

Winter so far has been laying on the sofa like a lazy roommate, shifting position only to reach the TV remote control or scratch its ass through a terribly revealing hole in its underwear. But one Sunday at the end of January it was like Winter remembered it had a job to do, dammit, and manically tried to catch up for a whole season of slackness.

Winter storms seem to have the exact opposite effect on me than they do on everyone else. While most of the city hunkered down under blankets and in front of fireplaces, I convinced Tamara that we needed brave the treacherous streets and poor visibility to buy a few things from Safeway. But it was Sunday, and even though I drove recklessly, Safeway was closed when we arrived. So then I convinced Tamara we needed to brave the treacherous streets and poor visibility to buy a few things from McDonald's.

There's a McDonald's about a block north of the Safeway we normally shop at, so really it was just a matter of crossing the street and getting into line at the drive-thru. The weather was getting increasingly miserable. I was pelted with snow when I rolled down my window, and sharp gusts of wind tore my order from my mouth. Somehow we managed to convince the attendant that we wanted a couple of cheeseburgers and some fries, and we crawled forward through the growing drifts to the drive-thru window.

The person in the car in front of us was paying with debit when an unruly blast of wind tore the card right out of her poor, freezing fingers. Because of her proximity to the wall, her passenger was the unlucky one who had to get out and look for the card. She looked under the car, around the wheels, cleared some of the snow away from the ground, but wasn't having much luck. The wind was still blowing fiercely, and the snow was beginning to cake in her hair as she continued her search.

And then suddenly, from nowhere, a hero emerged -- a tall, lanky young man in jeans and a blue parka. He came up from behind us, running past the drivers side of our car, pausing only long enough to grab something by our front tire before continuing on to the car at the front. One there he handed the wayward card back to its owner, stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, and ran back against the wind to the comfort of his vehicle. The driver paid for her food, successfully this time, and the line advanced forward.

When we got to the window, I asked the attendant how much the order was for the people behind us. "$6.73," she replied. "Okay," I said, "we want to pay for theirs too."

"You want to pay for the people behind you?"

"That's right. Let them know it's because he got out to get that girl's card."

We drove away with big smiles on our faces. It was still cold outside, but I hope this helped to warm him up a little.