Getting Emily’s band uniform was slotted into the nonstop activity yesterday, squeezed in while Laura was at archery camp. Emily’s boyfriend emerged the school building shortly after Emily went in, put his uniform in his car and hurried back into the building.
Forty five minutes later Emily came out, uniform bag and hat box in hand, plus boyfriend and a girlfriend. After a fond and solicitous farewell near the car Emily slid into the front seat. I was backed into the parking place where I waited; good to leave.
Except, there was a car in front of me, exiting the lot into the service drive. As it rolled past a young man jumped on the trunk. Another young man lifted the trunk clutcher's legs and “wheel barrowed” him around the corner. The trunk hanger slid off the car, unharmed.
I looked left and right again, in order to exit my spot. Another car approached. The two boys rushed it, this time one jumped on the hood, one the trunk. The car proceed through the lot, onto the service drive.
“Teenagers do not drive teenagers. I rest my case,” said, probably, the only adult driver in the sea of cars.