Maybe.

Maybe I was craving Super Mex yesterday.

Maybe I forced my kids and dad into the car and drove over to burrito heaven.

Maybe it was raining.

Maybe it was pouring rain.

Maybe the entire Super Mex parking lot was roped off for some reason.

Maybe there was one little area that was not roped off.

Maybe it was at one point roped off but the rain and wind had lowered the rope to the ground.

Maybe there were four cars already parked in this semi-roped off area.

Maybe I decided to join them.

Maybe we walked into the restaurant and were seated immediately.

Maybe we ordered our food and within minutes, were indulging in bean and cheese goodness.

Maybe the root beer was a-flowin.

Maybe my girls were behaving beautifully.

Maybe my dad was too.

Maybe the salsa was close to perfect.

Maybe I thought to myself mid burrito, that this was one of the best lunch experiences I have ever had.

Maybe this thought was interrupted by a loud, booming voice from across the room.

Maybe it was a sheriff.

Maybe he had a handlebar mustache.

Maybe it was red.

Maybe he was walking through the restaurant SHOUTING something about looking for the owner of a car.

Maybe the car he was describing sounded a lot like the one I drive.

Maybe it was my car.

Maybe I was pitting out a little bit.

Maybe the sheriff and I made eye contact.

Maybe he came over to our table asking me personally if I was the owner of this particular car.

Maybe he was still SHOUTING.

Maybe I said yes.

Maybe he scolded me on how I had parked illegally in a roped off area.

Maybe I said there were other cars parked there so I thought it was o.k.

Maybe he said my car was the only car there.

Maybe he said I needed to move it NOW.

Maybe I asked if I could take two more bites of my burrito first.

Maybe he said NO.

Maybe my dad offered to move the car in question.

Maybe I let him.

Maybe the Sheriff mad-dogged me while my dad left the restaurant to legally re-park the car.

Maybe I was staring at his mustache while he was mad-dogging me.

Maybe I finished every last bite of my burrito and had my third root beer refill while my dad drove around the restaurant looking for a parking spot.

Maybe it was still raining.

Maybe my dad returned from moving the car a little frustrated.

Maybe my car WAS the only car in the area in question.

Maybe the area in question WAS indeed roped off.

Maybe the local Sheriff's department was attempting to set up for a 5K race in honor of the hardworking, handlebar mustache sporting officers in our community.

Maybe I felt like an idiot.

Maybe my dad LOOKED like the idiot because he was the one that moved the car.

Maybe I paid for lunch because I felt so bad.

Maybe I won't show my face or car around that Super Mex for a while.