Vehicular Prosopagnosia

Okay, so I have been trying to decide whether or not to post this. Normally I mock those who not only do something embarrassing but also actively tell others all about it, but since I recently became accustomed to embarrassment as a form of repentance, here we go. And I thought I’d reward those who still occasionally check my blog hoping (mostly in vain) for updates.

Last night I went to Walmart. Calm down, that’s not the funny part. I got my groceries and headed out into the parking lot, congratulating myself for getting what I needed for the right amount of money. I tried to be patient getting out the door as a slow couple walked ahead of me. As soon as we were outside, I moved ahead of them and looked for my car. I parked in a different area than I usually did, so I was pleased to spot it right off. One of the few advantages of owning a car manufactured in the previous millennium is that it does stand out. So I walked to my car and put the key in the trunk to open it. But it wouldn’t open.

 I looked at my key and remembered that it was a copy I had made, and I haven’t had the best of luck with copied keys over the past few years. So I stuck it in the lock again. Suddenly, the trunk popped open. “There we go,” I thought. “But wait. Why is there a wheelchair in my trunk?”

“Excuse me,” a voice behind me said. “This is our car.” I turned around to see that the slow couple had caught up with me.

So, yeah. Same distinct car. Same color. Same parking lot, just one row over from mine. And we both left the store at the same time. We had a good laugh, and I went on my merry way (“merry” here meaning “red-faced”).


Bonus: Earlier that night a good friend of Katie's came to our door. When I opened it, she greeted me by name and asked if Katie was home. I thought she was just someone from the ward whom I didn't really know, so I just had to tell her "someone" was here.