Providence: A Story (and a Question)

Do you remember something like this? Let's say you're walking along the street, just sort of getting some air, and let's say it's a windy day. I mean, it's a really windy day. Chicago-like. And there's a sheet of newsprint blowing toward you. It's coming along, sweeping and swooping and tumbling. And it swoops right up to you, and it sweeps around your legs like some sort of newsprint-dervish, and you seem to be at the center of some rare weather-occurrence, a little vortex all your own, for the wind is whirling the paper around and around you, as if you were standing in the eye of a little tornado, and the whirling paper sweeps around and around your ankles, your knees, your waist, and it's like you're in some sort of supernatural grip as it whirls around your head now, around and around and around, and all you can see is a blur of newsprint, and then suddenly the paper is plastered to your face. With difficulty you peal it away, and then before you know it the wind has literally torn it from your grasp, so that all that's left in your hand is one small scrap of paper as the rest of the page sweeps on past you along the avenue.

My God, you wonder. What on earth just happened? And you look down at the scrap of paper in your hand, and your eyes go wide, for there it is! The news! The news meant only for you. The news you'd dreamed about as a child, but finally given up on, and even learned to doubt, to scoff at, to feel superior than, and there it is in black and white, plain as day, just in time to change the course of your whole day, your whole life.

So: was it like that for you, too? Or was it like something else entirely? Do you remember?