Imagine for a moment that you're a girl in high school.

(That immediately disqualifies most of the people likely to read this. I never understood high school girls while in high school. Anyway, play along.)

School's just gotten out, and you're in a hurry. There's traffic, and you don't want to wait, so you pull out in front of a car as you exit the parking lot. No big deal, it wasn't ruthless, and with the traffic, it's not like you slowed the guy down very much.

But wait: you look in the rear view mirror and you see the guy behind you flashing his lights and waving. His hand's outside the window, making some kind of weird motion. You try to ignore it.

Now, the guy is honking and waving more dramatically. Traffic ahead has slowed for a four-way stop, so you're stuck with this guy behind you acting strangely.

Whoa. Now he's yelling something out the window. You pick up your cell wireless phone and start talking to someone. You might be calling the police, or your dad, or any random person who might be able to tell you what to do about the crazy guy who won't leave you alone. You might even be scared.

Except the guy behind you is me, and I'm trying to tell you that you've left your folder on the roof of your car. I'm pointing to the roof of my car to illustrate. And now I'm honking and yelling, because the folder has blown off and all your class notes are littering the road and disintegrating. I'm only trying to help.

I wonder what will be more upsetting: the crazy guy or the fact that it's a few weeks from finals and she's up a creek.

I wonder what I'd have done if I were her.