Freshman year, sometime during my first winter break of high school, I contentedly ate milk and cookies, all PJ'd up against the chilly evening. Though my face was never to appear on any milk carton, I was about to get kidnapped. From the night, a terrifying figure appeared at my door. The cold air that rushed into the house with him chilled my bare toes. It was ye olde section leader. I finished my cookies, assured that I would not leave the car and would not have to change out of my pink PJs with cats wearing hats. We drove through Katie's and Wasiq's neighborhoods looking out through the windows at Christmas lights. Though I cannot remember any singing or talking between us, the night has a sense of laughter. Despite the previous assurance, I had to evacuate the vehicle in order to ask Laura which house was Wasiq's. Knocking at the house we were directed to, Wasiq's hot older sister answered the door. But Wasiq doesn't have an older sister. We thought perhaps we'd mistakenly knocked on the only other Pakistani house in GV. Even better, it was simply that Wasiq's mom has got it goin' on. Tragically, Wasiq would not leave his house to join us in seeing the lights.
One of the very few regrets I had in not driving until this past summer was my inability to imitate this night with my freshmen buddies.
"No! Not Tiny Ira! What could we have done against such a lovable scamp?!"
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