Shady and baby

Where would we be without good samaritans?

Last night was NOT my night. My friends invited me to go hike to the Y with them, and since I had never done it before, I went (in flip-flops, but that shouldn't surprise anyone). We had to pile about 8 people in a little Toyota Camry, so I sat on my friend ReNae's lap. I had my hand grabbing the roof of the car when she slammed the door shut. Ouch. I screamed. But it wasn't that bad, I just had indentions in my hand and couldn't bend my fingers for a few minutes. So we got to the Y after a really un-pretty hike and I took some pictures, then we hiked back down. As I was getting in the car this time, Ruth (the driver) starts driving off when only half my body is in the car. So I screamed again and had to run and jump in. When we got back, however, I realized that my apartment keys weren't in my camera bag anymore. I had left them at the top of the mountain, a steep, 2-mile hike which I had already done once that night and did NOT feel like doing again. So ReNae, feeling really badly for mangling my hand, let me eat her food, sleep in her bed using her blanket, and borrow her shorts and some shoes for work. I got up at 8:45 this morning (which, if you've never been a college freshman, is REALLY EARLY) to hike the mountain AGAIN. Luckily, about 1/3 the way up the mountain, some very extroverted man was asking people if someone had lost their keys. I don't think I've ever expressed so much gratitude to a complete stranger. So all is well, although my bruised knuckles made it hard to scoop ice cream at work today. Thank you, loud stranger, and thank you, Indian friend. But I still hate Y mountain.