So you lean to the side and crank one arm around your seat back into the space directly behind you. The place within the car that you have the least chance of seeing a damn thing. You feel around. You try to identify stuff from the feel of it.
"Shopping bag with food, but no water ... my backpack ... Handsome's weekend bag ... Handsome's computer ... Aha! Shopping bag with wa- no, no, my bad, it's the one with food in it again ..."
You feel about, and you move stuff, and you keep the car going straight in its lane. For the most part. No one was in that parked car, so no one will ever know just how close you came to hitting - "wait, I have ... no, it's that damn food bag again!"
Eventually you get pretty frustrated, not to mention parched. Or, as we say in Boston, pahched. You're leaned pretty far over and flailing around in that backseat like a circa 1958 father who, after asking those damn kids in the backseat 'do you want me to pull this car over?' has decided to just lay a little smackdown justice on the little pains in the ass without even bothering to touch the brake. The car tends to swerve a little, you tend to swear a lot, and do you know what can make this situation even more aggravating?
I'll tell you.
Someone sitting in the passenger's seat who is just watching and laughing. Not helping, not reaching right over to the bottles they can plainly see from their passenger's seat vantage point, not even when you ask them to. Especially when you ask them to. They are too busy laughing and enjoying the show, just hoping you will slip up and one of those curses you are mumbling under your breath will really fly!
One day, I will have my revenge. Oh it may be years from now, but I will have my revenge...
Talk to you later!