North Star Writers Group

I call them “Batz Moments” and they include washing the car 10 minutes before it rains and scheduling a ski trip that coincides with a freak 105-degree heat wave in Colorado.

Batz Moment No. One: I’m carrying two bags of groceries from the supermarket when I make the wrong move, triggering the remote control device in my pocket that governs the horn on my car. The blaring of the horn is suddenly deafening and I’m the only person in the parking lot. A police officer slows his cruiser. I try to reach in my pocket and deactivate it, but I can’t. The horn continues to blow. More people stare. A car-load of teenagers passes. They are pointing and giggling at me.

Batz Moment No. Two: The gas gauge on my car shows the tank is nearing empty, but I’m in a hurry to make it to work on time. I figure I’ve got enough petrol to make it. I’m wrong.

Batz Moment No. Three: Halloween is approaching. For the last three years I bought the minimum amount of candy for trick-or-treaters. For the last three years some 2,000 kids descended on our house, quickly wiping out my supply of sweets. So, this time when Halloween rolls around, I decide to stock up on candy. I buy grocery bags-ful of candy. Suckers. Candy bars. Licorice. Chocolates. I’m ready for at least 2,000 ghosts and goblins to descend on my home. Four trick-or-treaters show up.

Batz Moment No. Four: I’m between newspaper reporting assignments and I feel hungry. I’m pressed for time so I need to eat quickly and be on my way. I spot a fast-food eatery and there isn’t a single car at the drive-thru window. “Great,” I tell myself, wheeling the car into the lot. Boom! Immediately things change. Suddenly 32 other vehicles appear and somehow they are all in front of me. My quick stop for a bite to eat becomes a 30-minute wait.

Batz Moment No. Five: My wife and I are on a driving vacation. Our goal is to spend two weeks seeing America by driving the backroads of this great nation. Forty-five minutes from home, Sally notices I appear slightly confused. “You’re lost, aren’t you?” she says. “No,” I reply. “I’m not lost!” Five minutes later I see a service station. “I’m going to ask directions because service station operators are always a good source,” I say. An attendant emerges from the building. I ask him for directions. He shrugs and says, “Geez, I’m not sure. I just moved here last Tuesday.”

Batz Moment No. Six: I get a new shirt. I love the shirt so much I wear it to work the next day. I notice people in the office are staring at me and whispering to each other as I pass. When I get home that evening, my wife Sally hugs me and says, “How was your day M/M 100% Algodon?” I ask her what she means. “I mean you wore the store sticker on your new shirt all day,” she replies.

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