It happened inside a Tiki Hut.
Not really intentionally; there is so much of the intentional in the design and building of a Tiki Hut that no prospective patron can approach it with the slightest sense of purpose, since a special field that repels undesirables means that intentionally heading to a Tiki Hut with the stated purpose of absorbing the island vibe through frozen margaritas, coconut ice cream, barbecue chicken, roast suckling pig while dancing native dances inspired by vodka and carved wooden heads to songs actually composed and performed by under-employed Nashville almost has-beens -- if any person has the intention to actually learn about world culture through this experience, then it is a proven fact that their car will suddenly develop a flat tire, their best friend will go into labor, their next door neighbor will need a lift to the emergency room following an incident with a runaway lawn mower, their dog will eat the remote starter attached to the keys, the bridge will be out, and the Tiki Hut itself will be closed for a private party when the culturally intentional visitor arrives.
Lupton: Thinking With Type. The best typography book I've read, and it is a genre that sees a lot of action in this house.
This morning spent 45 minutes shoveling out the car in an attempt to get out of the driveway. Finally considered it a High Achievement to be able to get the car back to exactly the point where it was at the beginning of the process. Shoes and gloves remain soaked through.