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In Prescott Arizona (2 hours north of Phoenix) the 4th of July is a big deal. They have the country's? world's? oldest rodeo and a big fair. They also have a city wide water fight. (I think has since been curtailed to just downtown wide water fight but i digress) People line the beds of their trucks and fill em with water. You are told to avoid downtown if you do not want to get wet.
I was 19 and working the front desk of a hotel. The lady owner I worked for was walking down the street towards the hotel. I was standing outside because it was a beautiful day and I was watching her walk towards me. The hotel was on a side street and this lady was pushing 80. Of couse she was coming back from the bar and had a blue wig on but still! Pushing 80. A truck full of kids came careening by, water sloushing over the sides of their truck and just nailed this little old lady with every super soaker they had stuffed in that thing.
She was drenched. I was doubled over laughing.
I moved to Phoenix the next year. Moved into an apartment next to my NOW psycho ex. We were hanging out one night sometime around the 4th of July and he started telling me a story about how he went to Prescott for the first time last year and saw some poor little old lady in a blue wig get drenched by a bunch of hillbillies in a pickup.
I knew then that for whatever reason I was supposed to meet him.
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"Loving him is red."
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