The Good Samaritan?

Don't you love that moment when you catch someone doing something really awkward, and you know that at that exact moment all they're hoping is that no one is catching them doing it? I was sitting with my best friend in her car outside of Starbucks. We were finishing our conversation before we got out of the vehicle because both of us are equally paranoid about people listening in on our conversation - not that it was particularly top-secret, or incriminating, but we tend to use colourful language and superbly timed sarcasm and exaggeration that some people may take the wrong way. So she's telling me a story and I become slightly distracted by a woman who is standing infront of my bf's car. We are parked in front of a bank, and this woman is trying to find the entrance to it. There is no door where she's looking, the door is around the corner, but she is staring and exploring this wall of windows in front of us like they are a magic eye painting that will reveal a door if she stares hard enough at them. She walks back and forth in front of these windows, looking for a door that she might have...overlooked? She is stumped. I'm watching this, and I'm squirming, because I know this exact feeling, emotions flooding back from that fateful day in Portland when I approached a crowded cafe, in the middle of a crowed square, all four of its walls made of glass, presenting no obvious door structure, and I panicked. Do I paw at the glass? Do I knock? Throw a rock through the glass? (I needed coffee, bad.) I did that extremely awkward move, when you approach the place where there logically should be a door, and stand there, waiting for something to happen, and when nothing does, you feebly push on the glass in a couple of different spots, making you appear sort of mime-like....
So I'm empathizing with this woman and her situation, and hesitating to help, only to see if she will figure it out on her own, although it doesn't look promising. We have paused our convo and are now watching her every move. She steps back, gives the windows the final once-over, and begins her retreat to her car. She's giving up and the door is less than 10 feet away around a corner, but not even a sharp corner.
     "Ooh, I should tell her where the door is," I say, as I reach for the door handle.
     "Let's just wait a sec," bf says, stopping me, "You know, survival of the fittest."

After almost dying laughing, this is the type of conversation that ensued in the car: swap the robbery for a door-search, and the overweight man for a stupid woman, and you'll pretty much get the idea.





This is why we keep our conversations in the car.
(Don't worry, I ended up telling her where the door was...)