On Snow Drifts

I know I've said it before, but it bares saying again: through sheer repetition of low-grade accidents and bonehead maneuvers, my friends are exactly the kind of guys you want around when something goes wrong.

Last night we went out for a drive to kill some time before appetizers/drink specials kicked in at our local family restaurant. And–obviously–we skidded off the road into a snow drift. Honestly? It wasn't even that bad. We'd all done it before. We knew the powder was soft, so there was no body damage to the car. We knew to call AAA after we failed to immediately rock/push ourselves out. We even knew to "appropriate" a shovel from the yard of a darkened house to help dig ourselves out.

Honestly, the only thing we didn't seem to know was "Let the gorgeous girl driving by help us out when she offers. Maybe her 'friend' up the road is cute too." But even that screw-up didn't throw us off too badly. Within 45 minutes we had ourselves out and back on the road, made it to the restaurant realizing none of our other friends ever showed up, and then ordered some beers and food to fill our deserving stomachs.

Really, all minor disasters should end so well. 75% of Australia's Queensland is a disaster zone right now, but you can bet they're going to throw a hell of a Foster's and BBQ shindig after. Oh my god, I think my friends and I are secretly Australian. I never knew.