The Parking Lot. . .

I tell you what happens to me in parking lots truly amazes me.  Today, I was loading into the back of our truck some empty flats.  Naturally, I am singing my little lungs out.  I was not singing John Prine, I was singing House of Love by Amy Grant.  

I hear my name being called and looked around...but nothing registered in my mind.  This woman comes up to me and says Bev ... it is Denise.  I could not believe it.  I have not seen this woman in over 20 years.  I asked how did you know it was me - she replies, your singing.  I still remember that you always were singing.  

We chatted and exchanged emails, etc., and hopefully we will pick up lost years. As we parted we laughed our fool heads off at...and yes, next time I see you I'll be singing.

I met up with Noisemaker and told him of my event.  He says...oh lord, were you singing that same John Prine song you were 20 years ago.  I started to giggle and said, No - Amy Grant.

Interesting what you meet up with in a parking lot.  Now, off to parking lot #2.

We stopped to have breakfast and as always I leave the restaurant before Noisemaker so I can have a cigarette.  I come outside and I see this elderly fellow bent down at the truck.  I walked over and said can I help you?  He starts cursing at me that the tires on his heap are not as good as what I have on my truck.  Oh my, I said, I know nothing of tires - but eh, if you want to wait, my husband will be along directly.

The fellow lights up a cigarette - he just put one out...and started chatting to me about vehicles, cigarettes, and getting old.  He says he has to go inside and pay the bill (he took his caretaker to breakfast this morning).  I thanked him very much for the conversation.  I told him good health and much happiness to you.

As I turned to make my way to get my Noisemaker, I heard all this ruckus.  A father and son were having words...it escalated into a full blow fisty cuff match. The son decked the father to the pavement.  I hear a loud voice say stop, stop, I am an off duty police office.  She goes over to the altercation area and words, fists are flying.  My first thought was get the hell out of here...you do not know if anyone has a weapon.  Off I go, I must get Noisemaker.

Noisemaker and I meet and I said well, hurry along now - we gotta get back home.  The altercation was still going on...I said, Gary get in the truck...I will explain en route.

I did.  We arrived home safe and sound.  

Now, truly, I am wondering in my next parking lot event - am I going to meet the Prine?  Maybe the Boss. . .who knows. . .