The first thing I noted was how long the lines were at McDonalds. I had decided to grab breakfast there and save my cottage cheese and bananas for lunch and supper. They needed me to stop driving to eat, while sandwiches were fine for that kind of multitasking.
With the double order lines, customers were slowly alternating into the line to pay and get food. I had plenty of time to watch and figure out where I was going to fit in the line. The car which would be ahead of me was shiny, absolutely pristine. Who'd get a car wash in these temperatures? Ahhh, somebody from Arizona. I had plenty of time to enjoy the scenic license plate while also wondering what could possible induce somebody to abandon those lovely temperatures for our sub-zeros and snow. Work? A funeral? If somebody were desperate to go skiing, they did have the Snow Bowl in Flagstaff, after all.
Finally, it was my turn at the window. I had my card in hand, when the young man informed me that the driver ahead of me had already paid for my breakfast! Who? Why? I knew I had no idea who it was. I know very few people from there, and none of them should be up here. They're all enjoying the reason I'd rather be down there: 70+ degree temperatures. Somebody who took pity on somebody stuck up here for the winter? Someone who saw the logo on the car and knew it from Phoenix? Then again, why would that matter? Maybe somebody who was surprised by another car yielding so they could get into their proper place in line?
That thought brought back a memory from when Steve and I were honeymooning down there a couple years back. He still chuckles over it. We were coming back from enjoying the view from South Mountain, heading for a particular western apparel store where he hoped to - and did - find a belt for his new silver and turquoise belt buckle. Minnesota had just passed its law requiring cars to yield to pedestrians in crosswalks. I'd been trying to get in the habit, and when a family with a stroller was attempting to cross the road, I stopped and waved them across. The father pointed at our license plate and called out, "I knew you couldn't be from Arizona!"
Whoever you are, whyever you did it, it was a thoughtful gesture and I thank you for it.