1960s, one early twilight evening. Place: A New York City street.
A man is walking down the fairly busy street and, unfortunately, has enjoyed himself a bit too much at the local bar’s “Happy Hour.” He’s in a fairly thick state of inebriation. Up ahead and oncoming are two Catholic nuns walking along, wearing the old-style long black dresses or “habits.” As always, they walk fairly close together, even sometimes arm in arm, as they talk quietly about their convent school’s activities and spiritual matters relating to prayer, thanksgiving and God.
Upon seeing the hapless, drunken man slowly coming their way, they decide not to stare at him and shame him, but to simply look down at the sidewalk pavement as they proceed, silently saying prayers to themselves for his well-being in the embrace of the good Lord. When the gracious women have drawn even nearer to where he is, he accidentally, awkwardly lurches to his left, right into their oncoming path. The nuns simply and deftly separate for a moment, one nun going around to his left, and the other nun going around to his right, before they come together again and proceed to walk down the street arm in arm.
Meanwhile the man isn’t quite sure what has just happened. He turns around in his drunken grogginess and finally exclaims to himself in an inebriated voice, “Lord save me! What a miracle! How in the world did she do that?”