VOWS OF SHAME - All Cars Look the Same

Kunto clears his throat again, grins at the guests, and says:

Alright, let me reframe the whole scene for you… so Olimpia goes into the bank to see the notary. Very official business: papers, signatures, real estate, she’s basically rewriting history in there. Meanwhile, I’m outside, waiting in the car like her personal getaway driver.

After two hours, the doors fly open. Olimpia charges out like she’d just conquered Wall Street single-handedly, eyes locked on what she thinks is my car. Without breaking stride, she yanks the door open and slides into the passenger seat like she owns it.

Here’s the problem: not my car.

It’s the car of a married couple. The husband is still in the driver’s seat, totally frozen, mid-phone call. His jaw drops, because out of nowhere, a glamorous stranger has just thrown herself into his life. He’s like, ‘Uh… hello?’

Meanwhile, his wife has just finished at the bancomat. She turns around, cash in hand, and sees this vision of Olimpia settling comfortably into her seat like a queen on her throne. Her eyes go wide, and she sprints back to the car. She rips open the door and screams:

‘WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING IN MY CAR?!’

The husband panics: ‘BABY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW THIS WOMAN!’

The wife: ‘DON’T YOU “BABY” ME! SHE’S SITTING IN MY SEAT!’

And Olimpia? Completely unbothered. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t apologize, she just calmly adjusts her purse strap and looks out the windshield like she’s waiting for the traffic light to change.

Finally, mid-domestic meltdown, she slips out of their car, walks over to mine, and slides in like nothing happened. 

I ask, ‘Olimpia… who the hell was that guy?’

And with the straightest face, she shrugs and says: ‘How should I know? I thought it was your car. They all look the same these days.’

That’s when I realized: if Olimpia ever accidentally causes an international incident, she’ll just stroll away like, ‘Well, maybe they should’ve parked better.’