Thoughts from a funeral assistant

Picture this.
It's eighty-five degrees out and very humid. It's been raining all night. The clouds have parted and the sun is beating down, scorching the top of my head. My highlighted hair feels as though it's going to burst in to flames. The sweat is trickling down the center of my back under my black suit. I'm standing there with bright orange funeral flags in my hand in the center of the intersection (my mama told me not to play in the street!) with a smile on my face waiting for each car to arrive for the funeral. For cars wishing to go in the procession, they need to use the east/west street and cars just staying for the service, use the north/south street. It all seems pretty simple.

Why then do the people drive right by me and park wherever they feel like and then tell me to run down a block and a half to put a flag on their car?! Why should I? They're not even on the right street facing the right way. How are they going to follow everyone else when they go and park like that? I want to say " Get your butt back in your car and put it where it belongs!" But I don't. Instead, I offer to move their car for them. And you know, someone else is coming as soon as I walk away from that corner! Oh well, it's not like they'll listen to me anyway.

One day, I'm going to take off in the hearse doing about 45mph and see if they can keep up.(facing the wrong direction on the wrong street!)

I was standing right there!

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