Linda

Randolph, MA movie theater, circa high school (1999?) I have the memory of a gnat. Anyway, my friend Mel drove a few of us to the movies. I sat in the backseat. The parking lot was jam-packed, cars on top of each other. I'm pretty oblivious and swung the door open wide, hitting the car beside us. It left a scratch (I think), so I ran away because I suck at life. But the driver was apparently in his car and got out to confront me. When he asked for my info, my nerves took over and I blurted out, "Linda. My name is Linda." Then I proceeded to give him the right phone number. (Idiot) Later that evening, the house phone rang and I heard my groggy father saying, "No, wrong number. Linda doesn't live here." I stormed into my parents' bedroom and said, "Um, Dad. Linda lives here." For the next few weeks while we settled this dude's non-existent "ding," my father looked at me with total disgust/amusement.