"Hey, you're really cute, have these. I gotta fly. Text me later, baby."

A cute motorcyclist says hastily to you, handing you a bunch of flowers and a note with his number, quickly hopping back on his bike with at least ten other bikers, and tearing off down the street.

Not what you expected on a Friday night, but maybe you'd text him. You've always wanted to be a cute backpack.