My Streetlight Curse
I think I’m cursed.
When most people say that, they actually mean they’re really clumsy, or they’ve had a string of bad luck in the past few days (dropped their coffee a few times, lost their keys, et cetera).
When I say this, I mean I genuinely believe that I’ve been cursed in some weird, non-malicious way.
It all started last February (or maybe even earlier than that — I only noticed it in February). Every single time I drive at night, at least one streetlight goes out when I drive past it. It’s usually more than one, but it’s always at least one.
It doesn’t even need to be in my own car. I drove someone else’s car the other night and two streetlights went out as we drove past. I haven’t done much experimenting with what happens if I’m in the passenger or back seat, but maybe I’ll start.
What I’ve found in my (admittedly minimal) research is inconclusive about this phenomenon. It could be mechanical — streetlights aren’t exactly reliable. However, everything I read about mechanical issues with streetlights suggested that these issues are reliant on some sort of interference, whether that be some sort of disturbance from the car driving past, or something physically hitting the pole. My car doesn’t even need to be moving for streetlights to go out near me. Near the end of last semester, right as I was going through something adjacent to a break-up and we were all getting sent home due to COVID-19, I was going on a lot of drives at night. Of course, streetlights were still flickering out when I drove past, but I remember a specific instance where I had pulled over so I could cry without having to worry about whether or not I was going to drive into a tree. Five minutes of stillness had already passed. My car was turned off. I hadn’t moved. And the streetlight directly next to me went out.
“Oh, you bitch,” I sighed, and drove away.
It could be supernatural, maybe involving something called “suggestion” or “Street Light Interference.” I’m not even going to try and understand that further.
Mostly, I’d love for it to stop.
This strange streetlight curse is usually nothing more than an interruption. But, reader, if you know me at all, then you know I hate being interrupted. It’s hard to actually enjoy a riveting (if a bit one-sided) argument with God or to properly scream the bridge of Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well” when the streetlights looming over me flicker out every single time.
Maybe it’s all just a sign that I never should have moved away from the rural town I used to live in that didn’t even have streetlights. No streetlights, no problem, right?
Actually, I think I might take this curse over going back there.
So what’s the diagnosis? Am I cursed? Do I have superpowers? If anyone could clue me in, I’d be thrilled.
