on tuesday night, when we braved the freezing cold for our first story slam at martyr's, KC and i spent much of the evening poking fun at AC for bringing contraband tupperware containing the previous night's pasta dinner into a bar. (when i'm quite sure, secretly, we envied her boldness all the while.)
it is therefore appropriate that come wednesday night God would smite my silly sarcastic self and whip up a gust of wind so mighty, so great that it would snatch my own personal piece of oversized tupperware from its cozy safe spot in the crook of my arm and send it dancing into that vortex of chaos otherwise known as the lincoln/fullerton/halsted intersection.
and it was no doubt the devil who led me, briefly valuing the safety of rogue tupperware over my own, prancing into the intersection after it. because for a split-second, that seemed the reasonable response.
i didn't realize that maybe that is never the reasonable response until a cabbie in the left turn lane rolled down his window, looked me in the green eyes and said, hey, pretty. it's just plastic. you gotta let it go.