Tuesday, December 18, 2007
All too often I happen upon Snapple caps while walking through my daily life. Given their useless trivia and my love of non-sequiturs, I began to suspect that their frequent but arbitrary appearance was more than happenstance. In fact, I began to believe it was fate.
I've never believed this more than I do now, after what happened yesterday. I hate litter, so when I happen upon a piece of carelessly tossed refuse along my path, and I see that there is a garbage can in sight, I pick it up to deposit it. Yesterday I tossed a beer bottle over a short fence, aiming for a garbage can on the other side. Being the masterful athlete I am, it bounced off the rim of the can. When I walked through the gate in the fence to retrieve it, there on the ground, behind the can, was a Snapple bottle, its cap almost glowing with serendipitous magic.
I instantly recognized that I would not have seen the Snapple bottle unless I walked around the can, and I would never have done that unless I somehow missed, almost incredibly, that seemingly unmissable toss.
Faced with the most compelling evidence yet of a larger intelligence influencing my life, I regarded the bottle before picking it up, twisting off the cap, and in the pale street lamp light, reading what was printed inside:
"Stop picking up garbage. You'll never get chicks that way. They'll think you're dirty."
It either said that, or, "Frogs never drink." I don't remember which.