Yesterday morning I was running a titch late to work, but nothing to really worry about. I picked my way across the snowy, icy street to my car, sighed at the crusting of salt covering EVERYTHING, and started down the block. Exactly one block from my apartment I have to cross a fairly busy street, I usually try and avoid this intersection, there is a drive-thru coffee shop on the corner with a cluster of vehicles crowding into the street and X street is the main thru-fare in my neighborhood. It can take several minutes for a break in traffic to get across the street. But, I waited patiently, listening to the BBC on the radio (yes, I still listen to the radio), minding my own business.
Swear words. (Which, by the way, was the actual term that went through my head. Not #*$&, or ^(@#, or #!@$&!.)
I glanced in my rear-view mirror to confirm what I already knew: I had been rear-ended. I turned off my engine and got out to assess the damage and talk to the other driver, who I’ll call The Jerk. The Jerk was pissed. Specifically, The Jerk was pissed at me. He was swearing up a storm that would have probably made a Marine blush. He accused me of not going through the cussing intersection when I cussing should have/could have, which was the only cussing reason he ran into me and cussity-cuss-cuss.
While my ears were assaulted by every swear word I’ve heard of, and a half-dozen new ones I checked out the damage to my car (minimal) and his (also minimal) and did a quick self-assessment of my body (fine). A few minutes later he still hadn’t stopped yelling obscenities and when I told him I would like his insurance information he announced that it was MY fault and he wasn’t paying anything (of course, with another dozen curses of me, God, the insurance industry, and the world-at-large). I told him, politely and calmly, that I was going to call the police and file an official accident report and we’d let the officer make that call. I pulled out my cell phone and he let off yet another hail of curses. He told me that if I didn’t put my cussing phone back in my cussing pocket right this cussing minute he was just going to leave. I continued with my phone call and firmly mentioned that if he did so I would report him for a hit-and-run, and then I repeated his license plate number back to him (something I had memorized when he started with the yelling and cursing and kicking of (his) tires). He stopped howling for about 20 seconds and looked at me. There I was, calm and collected but silently fuming at being treated so poorly. In my skirt and heels I think he had initially thought I was some dumb blonde push-over. Au contraire, mon ami! I am not about to let some jerk-face #$*&-wad boss me around, not on your life.
I called the police, told them the situation, mentioned that the driver who I believed was at fault was threatening and pushy and had mentioned leaving the scene; three minutes later two cars carrying Salt Lake’s finest arrived and sorted out The Jerk. No, that doesn’t mean they tased and cuffed him, sadly. Officer Awesome wrote him a ticket, made sure I was alright after the fender-bender and the verbal assault, and lectured The Jerk about his anger management issues, particularly when he was a) in the wrong and b) in front of a lady. (Did you hear that? Officer Awesome called me a lady. Awww.)
I continued on my way to work, now an hour late, a bit crankier and with the morbid anticipation of a little soreness.
Would you like the good news in all of this? I mean, besides the fact that I am a lady in the face of a self-possessed jerk-face monster (who, it should be noted, very much resembled a water buffalo). This morning when I woke up I wasn’t sore. Not at all. My neck was fine, my back feels great, my hips and everything have no aches or pains. If you’ve been around these parts for a while you may remember the really horrible car accident I was in 3-years ago and the resulting mangled car and months and months of intense pain.
This is nothing like that.
A little chocolate, a little Dr. Pepper, and a scheduled massage for this weekend should put me right again. (And don’t worry, I’ve got an appointment to get checked out JUST IN CASE this afternoon. I’ve been to this particular rodeo before and I know the ropes, but please accept this pre-emptive “thank you” for your concern on that front.)
28 Comments so far
Leave a comment