The Cowardly Lion.
I was thirteen when I committed my one and only hit-and-run. It was at the bat mitzvah of my eventual best friend, in a room surrounded by stain glass windows, sometime between the candle-lighting ceremony and dance party. I -- dressed in a black, crushed velvet, knee-length dress -- found myself recklessly playing pool with a bunch of 13-year-old boys I didn't know. As it goes when you're shy/nervous/excited/thirteen, I held the pool stick like a baseball bat to show off, and, all of a sudden, the ball flew through a (non-stain glass) window out of everyone's sight, inches from the face of the cutest boy in the room. Two seconds later, I fled the scene ... in tears ... to my parent's doorstep. Enjoy!
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