This story starts out boring, but it gets better.

Today I went to the dentist (yawn). I had two cavities filled, was informed by the receptionist that I owed them $300 from a previous visit that I didn't realize I owed, and was facing a 8 block walk to the metro in the dreary, rainy cold. Also, I was hungry, and at this point, having had cavities filled in both sides of my mouth, and having extra novacaine because previous experience had taught this dentist to front-load me with painkiller due to my extra-sensitive teeth, I was still numb ear-to-ear and was having trouble locating my upper lip and cheeks with my tongue, which I kept manically pushing around the inside of my mouth. I looked frazzled. I tried to fix myself by putting on lipstick in my handheld mirror. If you're picturing Heath Ledger's Joker, smeared lipstick and tongue-jabbing-in-cheek included, you're not far off.
So where am I? Oh, yes, cold, numb, wet, headache from novacaine overdose setting in, miffed about the unexpected $300. And so I decided to foresake my spendthriftiness and walk a few extra blocks to Whole Foods for soup, which surely could be consumed with a straw.

The last time I was at the Whole Foods in Clarendon, I hadn't intended to go grocery shopping and so hadn't brought a reusable bag with me. Where I normally shop (Safeway, HT), you can get such a bag for $.99 at the counter, which I figured would be twice as much at Whole Foods. When I got to the check-out, I grabbed a reusable bag, but didn't see a price tag. I asked the cashier how much.
Him: "$25"
Me: "What? I'm sorry. I thought you said $25..."
Him: "Yes, it's $25. The proceeds go to feeding children in Africa."
Indeed, the side of the bag says "FEED" on it in big letters, which is a cutesie way of both looking like a horse's feed bag and also expressing what you did when you bought it (i.e., feed African children).
Me: "I'll just take a paper bag."
GASPS!!!! GASPS from the cashier! GASPS behind me in line! What? Is she... Is she going to give the finger to African schoolchildren and the environment?
Yeah, because I'm a bad person. I'm a bad person who just can't go around spending $25 on a reusable grocery bag. And isn't it JUST LIKE Whole Foods, and Clarendon, and the likes of those that like the likes of those to have a $25 reusable bag? Give me a break. You know what that bag should say on the side? GUILT. Because people who buy those $25 bags do it so they'll feel less guilty about spending $15 on acai juice-boxes, among other things.
OK, no one really gasped... but the check-out guy did double back with me and asked me if I was SURE that I didn't want to get a bag, since it would provide 250 meals to children. Yes, yes, we already covered, this, sir. I'd like to use the disposable bag made of virgin timber. I promise you, this is hurting me more than it's hurting you...

Anyway, I had bitter feelings about the Clarendon Whole Foods. Today, the universe took advantage of my broken-resolve trip to Whole Foods to teach me a lesson. It's important to know, before going forward, that I'm exceedingly spacy-brained. I keep hoping that my absent-mindedness is a sign of inner genius, i.e., my brain is so advanced it cannot be bothered with mundanities, and that some masterwork of art or scientific breakthrough is on my horizon. I'd so, so much rather be an absent-minded professor than just ditzy. In the meantime, today I left my cell phone at work. And when I got to the dentist, I realized I'd forgotten to charge my i-pod, which meant I had to listen to the sweet melodies of DRILL for an hour. And when I got through the check-out at Whole Foods, I realized I'd left my wallet... somewhere. (Moments ago I found it in the pocket of my bathrobe. This is likely a part of my genius revealing itself). So the cashier is tapping her foot at me, and I'm pulling everything out of my clown-car of a purse, and eventually accept that I have no wallet. I offer her a check - but I only have my gov't ID (no wallet, no license). So I'm comfortable with my fate, that after picking out the most luxurious handful of items to soothe my drill-rattled soul (cookies, soup, organic vanilla-bean body wash), I'm going to have to leave the groceries there. This is - all of this, with the bag, and the foot-tapping-cashier, and the check - embarassing. But whatever. It sure takes the cake over trying to use a credit card that keeps getting declined. As I'm repacking my bag and turning to go, the lady in line behind me says, "I'll pay for her groceries."

The entire cast (me, cashier, bag boy) turns to see what's entered the stage: a lovely, classy woman, who is ready to pay for my groceries, no questions asked.
Me: Thank you, that's very kind, but I can't accept that. I'll just go find my wallet and come back later.
Her: It's no trouble at all. (To the cashier) Please add her total to mine.
Me: [insert a thousand more protests]
Her: Please, please just take the groceries. Just, pay it forward.
And for some reason, at this point, the collision of embarassment/annoyance/inconvenience/awe was too great for me to handle, and I gave in. It was embarassing to let her pay for the groceries, but it almost seemed rude to continue to protest when she was so insistent.
Me: Can I write you a check?
Her: No. no. Just take them.
Me: Can you tell me a charity that you particularly like? Somewhere I can make a donation?
Her: (chuckle) You can do something nice for someone else. Or you can do something for me by letting me do this. Ok?

The gentleman bagging the groceries, who reminds me spookily of Mr. Ecko from LOST, shakes his head. "What is happening here, this I will never forget. This is rare. This, I think, is extinct in this world, and I see it with my own eyes. I will never forget this kindness."

So I took the groceries. It was pretty emotional, that $26 gift. Why would someone do something like that?
(1) She mistook my sagging jowls and inability to form words (thank you, extra novacaine) as a sign of something gone awry, and took pity on me.
(2) She was in a hurry, and my whole "I know it's in here somewhere!" routine was taking too long.
OR
(3) She wanted to do something nice. And not just because she felt guilty for buying arugula and goji berries.

Let's go with (3), shall we?

I'm kind of excited now about how I'm going to 'pay it forward.' I already give money to charities each month, charities that are used to receiving charity, that ask for charity. It needs to be something really spontaneous to "pay it forward" properly, right? I'm going to start carrying $30 cash (that's right! I'm raising the stakes!) in an envelope labeled "RAK" (for Random Act of Kindness, since Pay it Forward was a rubbish movie) so I'm armed and ready for the universe to put a $30-sized need before me.