Continued from part 1. Be warned: it gets much worse.
Emily and I approached my car in the parking lot. Absent-mindedly, I whipped out my key fob remote and pressed the button. The lights blinked and the car beeped twice. I've done this so many times I do it without thinking. Emily walked on ahead to the passenger side.
From the rear, I sidled into the gap between my car and the one beside it. I saw a girl -- young and attractive -- entering the gap from the front. I backed away to let her pass, but she had done the same. She walked round the other side of the car.
I shrugged, opened the driver door, and got in.
Now, I usually place my books and other stuff on the front passenger seat when I'm driving alone. The first thing I do when I enter the car and I have a passenger is clear out my things. What should I see now but a...bridal magazine stuck between the seat and the center console?
At this point, I enter into bullet time. Everything is happening so slowly. I can actually catch every detail that I see and every thought as it plays in my mind.
"What's this magazine doing here? It's not my magazine. It must be Emily's. But we didn't come over to the car to drop anything off."
The passenger car door opened. I looked up. It was the pretty girl from earlier. We stared at each other.
I held on to the steering wheel. The grip felt different. I took in a deep breath. The car smelled different, too.
My hands went down and felt the seat under me.
"Why is this seat leather? Don't I have corduroy seat covers?"
Oh, shit. I'm in the wrong car.
"D'oh! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I got into the wrong car!" I clambered out hurriedly and backed away to the rear.
Emily ran to meet me.
"Your is over here!" she said, pointing to the car -- my car -- parked right beside the pretty girl's car.
"I know! I know!"
In case you need some explanation: said girl and I both clicked on our key fobs at the same time. And our cars were both white, and roughly of the same make.
I rolled down the window and turned to the girl whose car I had almost hijacked by mistake. "Sorry, miss! Wrong car!" She looked flustered, but it seems less from my accidental intrusion than from my state of panic.
"It's alright," she said.
I rolled the window up.
"Do you know who that was?" Emily asked.
"That's the TV host from GMA-7!"
"You know her?"
"I did a cake for her once."
"Shouldn't you go out and explain?"
"Are you kidding? I'm embarrassed to show my face."
"Okay, right. Let's just get out of here."
For the next fifteen minutes I had to drive very slowly and very carefully. I could hardly see the road from the tears streaming down my eyes amid my uncontrollable chuckles. I had never heard my fiancée laugh so hysterically.
Somehow, I don't think I'm going to live this down.
No, I'm not done yet. There's still part three. Read on and weep from laughter.