Jeremy + BYU = catastrophe. It could be because it was one of the few places I actually drove to almost daily. During my first semester I remember locking my keys in my car time and time again and having to call my mom to come bring me a spare. One of those times I locked my cell phone and backpack in my car as well. I walked up to the Bean Museum and asked a lady at the desk if I could use the phone because I had locked my keys in my car. She told me no because there were pay phones on campus. When I explained that my backpack was in the car with my wallet she finally gave in. My mom had me make five copies of my car key to put in every bag I owned.
On a particularly sunny spring day I was walking to the parking lot after an invigorating hour of Anthropology. As I came around the Marriott Center and started down the hill I noticed a neon green car parked close to my own. I wondered who had the confidence to drive that crazy looking vehicle. I got closer to the lot and I noticed two boys doing something to the green car. I squinted and noticed the car had an unusual texture. A post-it note texture. How cute! I thought. They're doing that cute Mormon asking-out thing where they go totally over the top go ask a girl to go ice blocking. She was going to have a fun story to tell her roommates.
Upon further squinting and staring I realized that the bright green car was actually mine! Poor Jeremy was be accosted by two boys and some brightly colored post-it notes. My heart sank. Those two boys spent so much time and effort decorating my little Corolla, and I felt mortified at the thought of having to tell them they got the wrong car. All their hard work down the drain.
I slowed my pace, dreading the conversation I was about to have. I walked up to the guy on the right side of the car covering my door in purple paper. "What's going on?" I said cautiously. The boy on the other side of the car peaked over Jeremy's roof and I recognized him. I had been on a date with him two days earlier. They were trying to post-it note MY car. Since I caught him in the act he didn't finish, but he spent about $70 on post-it notes. Poor guy.
I got lots of honks and stares driving home. But to the credit of the people who make post-it notes, they stuck really well and I only lost about three driving down University Avenue at 55 miles per hour. The temperature dipped that night, and at about nine o'clock Braden and I pealed and pealed post-it notes until our fingers were sufficiently numb. I captured these pictures beforehand: