My friends. Mistakes are a part of life. I think that's what this whole blog really proves. We can't get out of life without awkwardness, embarrassment and mistakes. And recently I've made a couple of them.
Recently, I returned home from a trip to Arizona. Although I was only there for three days, it was packed with fun-filled activities of four-wheeling, going to the Gilbert Temple, movie watching, eating delicious food and seeing good friends.
I returned home on a Sunday night and, let me tell you, I was exhausted. That Sunday had already included four hours of driving to see friends and to get to the airport, and a two hour flight back home to Utah. I was sweaty, slightly sunburned and just outright exhausted.
I landed back in Utah around nine o' clock and was ready to crawl into bed, but knew I had another hour drive back home to my apartment ahead of me.
As I left the airplane, one of my friends called me. I hadn't talked to her in quite some time, so it was fun to catch up briefly and see what she was up to. I talked to her as I waited for my dad to pick me up.
After a few minutes, I saw my dad roll up in my moms car. He wasn't driving to the edge of the sidewalk, but was stopping in the middle of the left lane. Odd, but whatever.
I continued talking to my friend as I waved at my dad in the car, and signaled that I was coming. I grabbed my suitcase and raced to the trunk of the car.
I popped it open. It began to raise a few inches, then my dad pushed a button and it began to close again.
"Very funny, dad," I thought as it closed.
I continued talking to my friend on the phone as I pulled on the latch of the trunk a second time. My dad repeated the process of closing the trunk.
"Oh come on," I grumbled to myself and said to my friend, "Hold on a second. DAD! DAD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? OPEN THE TRUNK."
A third time. I pulled on the latch, and just as it began to raise, it lowered and closed once again.
"DAD! YOU'RE BLOCKING TRAFFIC! COME ON!" I apologized to my friend once again for yelling in her ear.
My dad then got out of the truck and approached me as I began to yank the now-locked trunk, grumbling to myself and my friend.
He gently touched my arm, and I whipped up to see . . . not my dad.
"Miss, I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaking me for someone else." he said.
I stared at him and said, "Oh. Crap. Yeah. You're driving my mom's car and well, you look like my dad. But hey! It makes a good story!"
"It does. You can tell everyone about it." he said as he walked back to the drivers seat and I walked shamefully back to the sidewalk with my luggage.
"Oh, I will!" I yelled back to him. "I'll post about it on Facebook!"
And with that, he rolled off in my moms car as color rushed to my face.
One of these days I want to hear HIS side of this story.
Have an awkward day, everyone.