TIFU by not checking what street I parked on before going for a walk

Lately I’ve been romanticizing evening walks like I’m the main character in a coming-of-age movie. Today I parked in some random quiet street, didn’t even glance at the sign, and strolled off into the sunset. It was peaceful. Birds chirping, wind flowing through my hair, life good.

Until it wasn’t.

When I turned around to head back, I realised every single street looked like a copy of the last one. I had no clue where I parked. I walked with confidence at first, thinking I’d recognize something. I didn’t. I looped around twice. Nothing. I started getting nervous. This was turning into the world’s most boring horror movie.

Then the sun dipped and it was dark. Streetlights flickered on. The peaceful vibe evaporated. I actually considered calling my mum to come pick me up and help find my car, but she was 40 minutes away and I was already too deep in my own embarrassment. Also, she’d never let me live it down.

So I kept walking. Past the same houses. Past the same mailboxes. I started thinking maybe the car had just vanished and I was about to start a new life in this weird little neighbourhood. Then finally, after 50 full minutes of what felt like hopeless wandering, there it was. My baby. My pride and joy. My car. I had never been more happy to see it in my entire life.

Moral of the story: next time I’m taking a photo, writing the street name on my hand – anything. Never trusting my memory again.

TL;DR: Went on a sunset walk, didn’t check what street I parked on, got completely lost in the dark, almost called my mum to rescue me, and eventually found the car.