Friday, April 30, 2010
Matt usually pops out to pick up lunch for everyone, but today I had a bank deposit to make, so I offered to do the honors. We took everyone's order and called it in: 2 salads, a 17" pizza, an 11" pizza, a 2-liter of Sprite and a 2-liter of Coke.
I gathered up the money and headed out the door, parking behind the bank so I could get that out of the way.
As I exited the bank, I saw that traffic was Friday-lunch-in-a-university-district bad, so I left the car where it was and walked the block or so to Dewey's. It was only as the Dewey's staff were bringing my order from the kitchen--in three separate trips--that I realized my logistical error.
But they bagged up the soda and the salads, I slung my backpack-purse over my shoulders and I was easily able to balance the pizzas. At least, till I (finally) made it back to the car, where it became clear I was going to have to put something down to get to my keys.
So I set the pizzas on my hood, eased the door open and gently set the soda and salads on the floor. So far so good.
It was as I turned to retrieve the pizzas that a freak wind sprang up out of, I tell you, NOWHERE, lifted the small pizza, held it mid-air for one heart-breaking moment, and then dumped it on the curb.
I'm not a bad person, but for one split second I considered simply rearranging the slices back in a circle and handing off the pizza without saying anything.
I mean, gravel is a form of fiber, right?
But my conscience won out, and I reported the mishap and ordered a replacement pizza.
(Which Dewey's gave me for free, because I made them listen to this whole sad tale. Still another example of the power of story.)