Given recent events, it would be easy to assume that I’m currently a bit pissed at my neighborhood. As of Saturday night, though, I’m cuttin’ it a little slack.
Microbug and I finished up our weekly grocery shopping, and decided to stop by the local Dairy Queen for our favorite vice, the Blizzard. Since we had groceries with us, we went through the drive thru.
It took a bit longer than we would’ve liked- the car in front of us took a while at the window. “Come on, hurry it up,” I muttered.
Finally, our turn at the window arrived. When we pulled up, though, all of the employees were standing, smiling and laughing, at the window. As the window clerk handed us our Blizzards, she said, “The woman in the last car already paid for these.”
My first thought was that they’d somehow screwed up the orders, and mistakenly charged the previous customer for our order. Nope- she’d told them that she wanted to pay for our order in addition to hers.
We’d never seen her before. We’ve no idea who she is. Boy did I feel guilty for wanting her to hurry up so we could get to the window.
Those were the best damn Blizzards we’ve ever had. 
My faith in my neighborhood has been restored. Now I want to pay for someone else’s order.
Thank you, Ice Cream Samaritan, whomever you are.
