I was at my best friend's house, and was expecting my dear father to pick us up around six, take us out to dinner, and drive me back to my humble shoebox. But my father called an hour before the time he was supposed to show up, to tell me that plans had changed and he would be late, so I should go get dinner ahead of time. Did I get said phone call? OF COURSE NOT! His cell phone or my best friend's phone - or both - decided it would be a fine time to malfunction. So I didn't eat the homemade lasagna dinner her mom made, since I was expecting food from my father. And as I was walking out the door to my father's car (after packing for the second time, since the bag I used ripped everywhere), the timer went off to say the lasagna was done. Needless to say, I never got dinner. He showed up late and took me right to my shoebox.
On the way to school, there was more traffic than physically possible and the oldie station that I love so much wouldn't come in. But my father was in denial of this fact. "It'll come in any minute now," so I got to listen to radio static for an hour and a half. Excellent. Eventually we made it back to Hell - I mean, school.
So I get to my shoebox, and I decide to put on oldies to compensate for the ones I couldn't hear over the radio fuzz. I push "Open" on my CD player. Several times. Each time, it does something other than actually open. Finally it opens, allowing me to put one CD in. Did I mention I have a five-disc changer? Great, only four more to go. Six and a half lifetimes later, I have all five CDs loaded, at which time I push "Random." Ha! Random all right! That's about the only accurate thing about the whole damn machine! I hit random and these cute little zzzz's come on the display screen, and it saws "GOODNIGHT". My STEREO just told me GOODNIGHT! "No!" I yell at it, "Wake the hell up!" I kick it a few times and it complies, playing a lovely variety of my favorite oldies, intended to melt away my stress.
Complete with good music, I became motivated and decided to print out my five-page paper. At which point my printer convinced itself that it had a paper jam, which is really special considering that there was NO PAPER in it yet to jam. I managed at some point to get the printer to print out the first page of my paper, which fell from the printer and knocked into the metal picture frame on my stereo, which fell off my stereo and clunked me in the head, metal corner first. Yes, the tiny light little piece of computer paper did indeed knock over a metal picture frame. That was loads of fun.
Next I decided to clean my room, which involved the talented act of stepping on everything pointy that ever was - EVER - because it was all on my floor. Then my phone rang and I got the three most random phone calls since the invention of the telephone, all in a row. These further distracted me from finding something to eat before Wayne Hall closed.
Finally around 11 or so, my roommate came home. At which point I informed her that I was hijacking her car and kidnapping her so we could find a 24 hour food store so I could get some damn dinner. She agreed, and we went out into the "cold, dark and stormy night" in search of food.
After driving up and down every road ever, she looked curiously down at her dashboard and said, "Why is my car slowing down?" Indeed, her car was slowing down. Then it was stopping completely as we pulled onto a dark abandoned creepy road. Next we got to walk to civilization (which at the time was an Exxon gas station) and call everyone we knew back at school at midnight, getting everything from busy signals to "I don't have a car" to "He's not back yet." It wasn't until after we had called 53-billion people that we noticed the flashing lights of the police car just across a parking lot or two. So we jaywalked across some major road or other to the friendly police officer while we waited for our ride to appear.
The cop decided to give us a ride back to the Exxon and wait for our ride with us, then call a tow truck that would only charge us the equivalent of one soul for a tow back to school. So after bashing my kneecap as I got out of the back of the cop car, we sat for an hour and waited for a tow truck to appear, even though it only takes half that time to get from point A to point B in Wayne at midnight, with no traffic.
Finally, the tow truck appeared and we all went back to shoebox land, where I got myself an icepack for my knee and a granola bar for dinner.
So, let's sum up, shall we? Everything that went wrong that evening, and consequently everything that has ever gone wrong anywhere, can be blamed on three things: telephones, cars, and granola.