When a TV Remote Hijacked My Motorcycle Ride
You’ve got to love those unexpected moments in life that make you question if you’ve somehow ended up in a sitcom. This particular sunny day, I had one such episode — an encounter that would etch itself onto the pages of my “most-random-things-to-happen-ever” list.
There I was, riding my motorcycle, wind tousling my hair, feeling like a protagonist in a cinematic sequence. Until, of course, the universe decided to hit the pause button — a red light. Like the law-abiding citizen I am (most of the time), I came to a halt behind a stationary car.
And then, enter stage left: Mr. Sweatpants.
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Picture this: an average-looking dude, jogging with that half-paced jog you do when you’re crossing a road but don’t really want to run. As he was midway between me and the car, his pocket decided to add a plot twist. From the depths of his sweatpants, out flew a TV remote. Yes, you read that right. Not a phone, not a wallet, but a TV remote. And not just any remote; this one apparently had a vendetta against the asphalt, as it met the ground with an explosive crash, shattering into a gazillion pieces, as if it were made of the most delicate glass.
The sheer randomness of this event flipped my laughter switch to overdrive. I mean, who jogs with a TV remote? Did he want to mute the world? Fast forward through traffic?
The aftermath was a scene straight out of a comedy sketch. There I was, cackling like a witch who’d just pulled off her master spell, while Mr. Sweatpants looked at the fragments of his remote as if he had just discovered an alien artifact in his pocket. “How did that get there? Why was it so fragile? What channel am I on?” his bewildered expression seemed to scream.
As I continued my uncontrollable laughter, I momentarily lost concentration, easing off my clutch a tad too much. This made my motorcycle jerk forward slightly, almost as if it too found the situation comical. Alas, my laughter and slight movement caused me to stall my bike, killing the engine and amplifying my hysterics. The once faint sound of my laughter now echoed through the street.
The cherry on top? Mr. Sweatpants, slowly recovering from his remote amnesia, looked up and locked eyes with me. No words, just a long, tormented stare that seemed to communicate years of TV-related trauma. Maybe the remote held sentimental value, or perhaps he’d never see the end of that cliffhanger episode now. Whatever the case, his pained expression momentarily halted my laughter, long enough for me to restart my motorcycle and zoom away, leaving behind a scene that neither of us would ever forget.
Moral of the story? Always check your pockets before going out. And if you’re on a motorcycle, maybe try not to laugh too hard at the universe’s random antics. It can be a remote possibility that things can go awry.
