When I meet new people or see folks I haven't chatted with in a while, I like to ask them what their most vivid memory is from the last year. This has exposed all sorts of curious stories and has proven to be an effective conversation accelerant. You could never predict the randomness this simple prompt has produced. Given where I am in life with my family and work, I have an enviable number of rich memories, but one for-sure standout is delightfully unusual.

I play in a winter tennis league that holds matches at night. Your start time will range between 9 and 10 pm. They set these up to take advantage of all the courts that are available after hours, when most sane, non-tennis-obsessed people are going to bed. Depending on who you get paired with, matches typically end between 11 and midnight. But if you had a tough three-setter, you might not be leaving until after 1 am. This was the case for me one Wednesday night.

While I don't like being up that late, as it takes a while to go to sleep after a grueling effort like that, I always enjoyed the drive home. I would take the neighborhood roads as they were fully desserted and wended through some of the fanciest homefronts in my city and were doubly picturesque in the quiet night.

One night, as I was rolling over the hills, I saw taillights stopped in the road ahead of me. I slowed as I got closer, stopping about twenty feet behind the car. After coming to a rest, I noticed the driver's door of a Mercedes sedan was open, and the driver's seat empty. After a few moments of not seeing anyone, I moved into the other lane and pulled even with the car.

In front of the car, illuminated by its bright lights, was a woman who looked to be about seventy years old. She was in a sequined evening gown that shimmered fantastically in the car lights. This spectacle was accentuated by her subtle movements as she seemed a bit wobbly on her high heels and was having trouble staying perfectly upright. Standing three feet in front of her was a gigantic owl. I don't know how tall (or short) this woman was, but this owl came up to her waist and was standing in the dead center of the car lane, facing oncoming traffic. Upon first taking this in, given their positions facing one another and not noticing my arrival, they appeared to be in the middle of an engaging conversation.

After a few moments of nothing, I pulled forward a bit more, rolled down my window, and asked if I could be of any help. The woman looked towards me, surprised but not startled at my presence. We begin a brief conversation, the woman's words coming out a bit slurred.

This owl is standing in the road.

I see that.

It won't move.

I see that too. It seems pretty set on holding its ground there.

I don't know what to do.

I don't think I know what to do either. This is a first for me.

In the middle of my last sentence, the woman stepped forward, bent down, bear hugged the owl, and stood up with it wrapped in her arms. The bird gave zero resistance. In fact, the bird didn't even seem to be aware that anything had changed. Once she raised up and steadied, she turned and started duck-walking to the road's shoulder. From my vantage point behind her, the lady looked like a very pregnant woman struggling to walk. Her feet were bowed out, and she had a bit of a wobble to her. Between her possible inebriation, the full-length gown, the high heels, and the large bird cradled in her arms, I'm amazed she was moving at all.

I expected her to set the bird down on the road's generous shoulder (remember we're in the fancy part of town) so her car could pass, but she kept going, stepping off the road into the grass. Off the road, there was a bit of a downward slope towards a rain gully. If I thought she was unsteady on flat pavement, she really started struggling now to stay upright. I pulled my parking brake and started opening my door, expecting that I was about to be hefting this woman out of the ditch just like she had hefted the owl into it. But she paused, steadied herself, and continued her deliberate steps down the incline. Once she was well clear of the pavement, she set the bird down, used her hands to make sure it was steady, then made the awkward climb back to the road, the sequins of her dress twinkling with every move.

She looked at me, again surprised but not startled at my presence, and said that should about do it. I told her that was one of the most impressive things I'd ever seen. She either didn't hear or care about my comment, slid into her car, and continued her drive home. I sat and let her get a bit ahead before following her. Her line was straight as an arrow, and after seeing the taillights crest the hill, I glanced over at our owl. It continued to hold its sentry-pose, seemingly unaware it had been relocated by twenty feet. I wished the regal fowl luck and health, put my car in gear, and rolled on, thankful that I got to witness what had to be the most interesting five minutes to ever happen on this pixel of earth, like ever.