title? we don’t need no stinking title.

I just watched a woman lock her keys in her car from my office window. Now, my innate Clark Kent-instinct is telling me to help this woman, but I don’t own a Slim Jim nor a wire coat hanger, and short of slinging my red Swingline stapler through her driver’s side window there’s really nothing I could do for her. It is, however, interesting to watch the problem-solving process in action when the person engaged is not aware they are under observation. She walked around the car a few times, trying every door handle more than once…perhaps she was hoping some pan-dimensional beings had manifested inside her vehicle and miraculously unlocked her doors in the last several seconds in an act of interplanetary goodwill. Giving up on this possibility, she eventually produced a cell phone to (what I would assume) was to call AAA or some other rescue-me-door-unlocking agency and walked away.

I’ve had the privilege of seeing a handful of oddities from my office window so far…last Thursday there was a rather confused girl wearing a jogging suit several sizes too small over undergarments that were several sizes too large pacing back and forth for the better part of an hour in the parking lot. She seemed to be talking nonsensically to herself and would intermittently shake her head in what appeared to be either confusion or frustration (it’s hard to tell these things from afar) and would pause only to hoist her too-large underpants up when they would slip due to her rapid traversing across the lot. I don’t know where she is now. Maybe she figured out the underwear thing and took a bus to Target.

There’s a man who drives a gunmetal gray Volvo who, every day, parks his car, exits, locks it, then examines the entire exterior. Makes the full rounds. Hood, doors, tires, top, tail lights. He goes so far as to open the trunk and examine the interior. Which is always empty. Not even a pair of jumper cables. He must have a lot of confidence that he’ll never have automotive issues. I declare OCD. He works in my building somewhere…his office must be fantastic.

At the moment I’m looking forward to the snow season, when cars start sliding down Denny Street. Call me sick and twisted if you like, but you know you’d watch with morbid fascination if given the chance.

Voulez-voulez-vous ooo ooo ooo lookin’ out my back door…

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