I believe everyone has the unusual (if small and odd) super power.  Mine comes in the form of an ability to cause strangers to want to help me with things of not great consequence.(1)

This can take many forms, but most often involves small favors in retail or foodservices.  I’m the queen of using expired coupons, getting items on sale when the sale actually ended yesterday and returning things without receipts.   I’m not obnoxious at all about these things;  I just ask really nicely, smile (somewhat pitifully, I’ve been told) and am more often than not the glad recipient of largess.  Many times I don’t even ask — I just get samples and freebies and other goodnesses — I think it has to do with the fact that I consider it part of my “job” to be pleasant and entertaining when I’m shopping.

Sadly, this gift doesn’t extend to anything truly large (no Ed McMahon on my doorstep with a Publishers Clearinghouse Check), though I have streeeeeetched it (more than once) to include convincing the policeman that he really wanted *not* to give me a ticket.  (And, yes, for this I am *incredibly* grateful!).

This weekend my powers were in overdrive (2) .  First, on Friday night we went to Blue India (more correctly known as Tandoor India), my favorite Indian place because they actually make the Chicken Tikka Masala *very* very mild when I ask for it very* very mild (which is always).  Most places assume I mean “somewhat mild” or maybe “not quite as hot as they normally make it” or even “we can’t make it mild, hope she doesn’t notice” and I end up miserable with burning lips and aching belly.  I Do Not Like hot food.  Or even, by most people’s standards, “warm” food.

So anyway, despite the fact I haven’t been there in person for a year or two I think our waiter must’ve recognized me (maybe he recognized the voice that’s placed many many takeout orders, always for Chicken Tikka Masala *very* very mild?), because when aklikins ordered the buffet and I ordered my standard, he asked me if I wanted any bread, then kindly said that Adrian could share his bread with me from the buffet!  Adrian came back with the thin, crunchy peppery stuff (I wanted naan, but there was none), so when our waiter came back I asked him if there were any naan, and I’ll be darned if he didn’t bring me a basket of naan fresh from the oven!!

Then, as if that weren’t enough, Adrian got these donut-hole-looking things for dessert.  As our waiter was clearing our plates, I asked Adrian if he was going to eat his donut-hole-things (using that phrase, I think).  Adrian declined, the waiter finished clearing our plates, then returned with a little bowl with two more of the little donut-hole-things, in a hot butter sauce with some sort of cream pudding on top for me!  He told me what it was called as he was presenting it to me, but I was too busy making gleeful noises to capture the name.  Sad, because it was delightful, and reminded me (surprisingly) of something from my childhood…

Then Saturday we headed to Nantucket Grille, home of:  the only lobster roll in the area that I know of (yum!  a perennial craving since my trip to Maine); a really charming, recently-displaced-from-Southern-California-waiter, who was distressed by the cold, yet eager to keep me well-stocked in potato rolls (and brought me a sample of slaw!); *and * wonderful cupcakes.  (Amended:  the cupcakes are quite good.  The icing is *excellent* and is piled high!).

As we were departing, I stopped by the pastry case to get a few cupcakes “for the road”… I remarked aloud (yes, there are actually *some* of them that do stay *inside* my head) that I was basically “in it for the icing” and I’d just buy a tub of that if I could.  One of the managers was passing through the bakery area as I said that, was amused, and responded “I’ll get you some icing!”

And, well, I jumped up and down like a little girl.

Which cracked her up.

And resulted in me getting a tub (TUB!) of icing!  And they wouldn’t even let me pay for it because they’d been so amused by my delight!  (I did still buy the cupcakes.  All three of them, which was all they had, assuaging my guilt somewhat).

(1) I also cause grocery store lines to come to a complete and total grinding halt….waaaaay before I even get to the cashier (so, no, it’s not me “being difficult” that causes it).  It’ll be some odd combo of normal-if-they-occurred-one-at-a-time-but-unbearable-if-they-all-happen-at-once-things like:  travellers checques; a new trainee coming to take over the register (who doesn’t even know the code for bananas!!); the register running out of tape (after the new trainee comes over of course; and I guarantee he doesn’t know how to change the tape); the use of an out-of-state drivers permit (not license) to purchase cigarettes (it’s a permit, but she’s old enough to buy the cigarettes … yes, this confuses the trainee); etc, etc.

You get the picture.  Strangely this only happens in regular grocery store lines (Harris Teeter, Food Dog, etc.) not in Target or Trader Joe’s (hear the angels?  they just chorused), so I really don’ t have to deal with it all that often anymore since I only venture into a “real” grocery store once in a very blue moon.

That said, if you see me in line at a Harris Teeter, do yourself a favor and choose a different line.  You can thank me later.  :-)

(2) Adrian hypothesized that somehow the powers are enhanced by cold.  That may be the case, but it’s still not enough for me to consider moving north.  Anything below 20F is Too Cold For People.  Period.

Points of consideration:

1. In the first place, I was very, very tired.  So tired, in fact, that I was having snippets of dreams, which wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the fact that I was on the on-ramp to the beltline at the time. (1)
2. Then there’s the fact that on-ramps have curbs.   Which, when you hit them going 45+ mph will tend to wake you right up.
3. aklikins is a car guy.  He can fix things, and even owns a shop, Rod-o-Rama (2).  So when I got home from the not-quite-awake excursion, he checked out my car.   Unfortunately, he also noticed some other side effects of hitting a curb at 45 mph, like smushed-up tires (the tread was separated and it had gotten all “bubbly”) and a loosened under valence.
4. Sigh.
5. Little known fact: the extended warranty on tires is actually a Good Thing, unlike nearly every other extended warranty.  Thankfully, when I’d bought my tires last year, I’d been convinced of this by the Tire Guy (3) and bought the extended warranty on all 4 tires.  This meant that the replacement tire for the one I busted cost $zero!!  (Not including the new $14 extended warranty that I bought for that one!)
6. That left only the loosened under-valence (undervalence? under valence?)… the plastic-y bit that runs *under* your bumper around the front of the car.
7. Because he may be the sweetest human ever, aklikins agreed to switch cars with me and let me borrow his truck so he could take Meep (my MINI) in to the shop to more firmly reattach said plastic-y bit.
8. I drove the truck (did I mention it’s a Really Big Truck?  Like HUGE?) into downtown Durham, where I was meeting my friend Kim to go to a bead show (mmmm…. my pretties…).
9. I found a spot in the Carolina Theatre parking deck  (which was, of course, undergoing massive construction, complete with barrels and “Do Not Go Here” tape and construction fencing and truly confusing signage)  and got out of the car and was all ready to go get me some beading goodness when I noticed that there was a faintly painted “Reserved” in the spot that I’d taken.
10. Crud.
11. I got back in the car and ever-so-carefully started to ease my way out of the spot, knowing that there were *furlongs* of truck behind me (as opposed to the 2.5′ of MINI I was accustomed to).
12. Keeping my eye on the ginormous SUV parked behind me, I started to turn the wheel to escape the spot.
13. SCRRCRRRSAADSH

Yes.  That was the sound of the *front* bumper hitting one of the 83 million poles in the parking deck. aklikins‘s truck’s front bumper.  Which he let me borrow because he was Fixing.  My.  Car.

I am unworthy.

(1) Being in cars *always* makes me sleepy.  I’m usually OK as long as at least one or more of the following are true:

• I’m WIDE awake
• I’m extremely caffeinated
• It’s a short distance (>15 minutes)
• It’s “exciting” driving (a new place, bad traffic — I know that seems counter-intuitive, but it’s true.  If it’s exciting then I don’t have so much trouble with the sleepies)
• Someone else is driving  ;-)

Sadly, early morning routine drives (like my commute to work) don’t usually meet any of those criteria.

(2) It’s a *neat* shop — a full service hot rod and custom shop in Raleigh, so if your muscle car needs fixing or spiffing up, that’s the place to take it.

(3) The conversation went something like this: