William Thacker was a very lucky man. I've been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like to be in a serious relationship. Of course, this isn't the first time I've thought about having a girlfriend, but it's definitely at the front of my mind.
I just recently watched Larry Crowne (a great movie by the way), and I couldn't help but wish that my life was more like a romantic comedy. As I watched Tom Hanks flirt with Julia Roberts on the big screen, I dreamt about what it would be like if I was in his world.
I already have a perfect situation that plays out in my mind.
I'm sitting at the mall, just wasting some time until I have to go to work. Suddenly, I realize that I'm going to be late and rush towards the exit. As I roll towards the door, I look down at my phone on my lap to catch the time. At the same time, a cute girl is standing by the door, intently typing away on her cell phone.
Without looking, I accidentally get a little too close to her and run over her toe. She screams out in pain as she falls into a plastic chair. My face becomes red with embarrassment, as I try to apologize. She is noticeably irritated and is about to tear me to the ground until she realizes that I'm in a wheelchair.
"It's okay," she shrugs. "Just watch where you drive that thing.
"I'm really sorry about that," I reply. "I've been driving for 10 years and I still haven't got the hang of this."
She then slowly limps away, but not before cracking a little smile.
Our paths cross again in the parking lot. I notice her limping around, staring aimlessly into the sea of cars. I slowly roll up behind her.
"Need some help," I ask.
"No, I just seem to have misplaced by Mustang," she replies with a sigh.
"Well, I'll help you look for it," I say. "My arms and legs may be broke, but my sense of direction is as good as ever. And it looks like your hurtin' a bit. Let me give you a lift."
She looks back and furls her brow.
"A lift," she questions. "On what?"
I smile and tell her that she can hop on the back of my chair and I'll take her to her car. Reluctantly, she steps on the back of my chair and we roll around the parking lot in search of her car. After a few minutes, we come across her Mustang and I drop her off.
Once again I apologize for running over her toe and wish her a great rest of her day. She gets off my chair and walks to her car. Just before she leaves, she drives up along side me, stops and gets out of her car. She pulls out a piece of paper and writes down her number.
"If you need a lift next time, give me a call," she says with a smile before she drives off. The rest, they say, is romantic comedy history.
Well, in a perfect world, that's how I envision it playing out. But reality is far from perfect, so for now I'll just keep hoping. That, or maybe I'll just open up an antique travel book shop on Notting Hill.