I sat next to a young, handsome guy on the bus this morning. We smiled, said hello, and I settled into my seat to read my book.

Then the bus went over a bit of a bump, causing my purse to fall off my lap and spill all over the floor. Great. Just like me. The picture of grace.

With what little dignity I could muster, I picked everything up and put it all away again. The guy next to me picked up a quarter that I had missed and handed it to me. I thanked him and we both settled back into our own little routines.

A while later, my seatmate spoke to me again. He said that when I spilled my purse, he realized that he recognized me from rides past and that the first time he remembered seeing me, he had spilled apple cider all over the bus floor.

I remembered the spill in question, but didn't remember him and hadn't remembered that he had been responsible. We reminisced for a few moments -- we both remembered another guy on the bus who had gotten really annoyed about the spill, shooting glares that could kill as he pulled his backpack up and out of the path of the spreading puddle. That broke the ice and we chatted a little bit more throughout the course of the bus ride. It was nice. Usually people are so closed off on the bus; it was a nice change to connect with someone. And it wouldn't have happened if he and I hadn't both at various points exposed ourselves in a moment of awkward discomfiture.

When I do dumb, clumsy things, I get to feeling like I'm an oddity. Everyone else is so put together, and here I am constantly knocking things off tables and spilling things all about. It's nice to connect once in a while and realize that other people are human and occasionally make klutzy mistakes, as well.