Lost in transit, IV

My husband’s hat was abducted by aliens in Yuma, on the California-Arizona line, just north of the Mexican border. I say aliens in Yuma because you might have thought their shenanigans were restricted to Roswell. The Yuma aliens congregated in the parking lot of Denny’s diner; funny, we didn’t notice them when we went in for lunch.

Why they would want my husband’s silly blue denim hat with a zip pocket he never put anything in is beyind me. But abduct it they did, for it was nowhere to be found. He looked in the car, under it, around it. He told me the wind had blown it southward, so I walked south, in 100 degree weather, forgetting my own hat in the car. I searched all over a large unfinished patch of landscaping between the parking lot and busy 16th Street; I searched in the gutter and under all the cars in the lot.

Then I told my husband to pull our car back. He inched back and I kept thinking with every turn of the wheels that the hat would appear. It didn’t. We searched so long that the drivers of the two cars parked on either side of us finished their lunch and came out of the diner. I waited patiently for the black Chevy on our southern side to pull back. At last it did. No hat. And then the tiny blue-and-white Cooper on our northern side pulled back and there, just under where its front bumper had been, the hat lay on the pavement.

Abducted by aliens, indeed!


Text copyright 2010 by Esther Hecht. No part of the text may be used without written permission of the author.


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