The problem with searching for my ubiquitous little Nissan among thousands of cars in the Disney World-size parking lot at work is that there are literally dozens of others that look exactly like it — mocking me. Actually, I’m told it’s not all that not uncommon to find yourself attempting to unlock a vehicle you innocently assume is yours. Picture me, stabbing my key into a lock unsuccessfully. First, a glance back at the rear windshield. Perhaps a look at the bumper. Then, the questions start to percolate.
“Wait. Did I support Nader in 1996?”
“Am I the proud parent of a U.S. Navy SEAL cadet?”
“I don’t own a miniature schnauzer. How can it be smarter than your honor’s student?”
OH, DAMN. I DID IT AGAIN.