Friday, October 14, 2005

Showdown at the OK Corral

howard would be proud

I know it's been a while, but that's because I'm lame and can't figure out how to write on a regular basis. However I've accumulated a couple of stories to tell, and I'll bless all my disciples with one of them right now.

Last Sunday night, I decided to head to my office so that I could work on some projects [read: classes] that I have going on right now. It was about 7pm, and I was in a fairly industrious mood, so I thought I could get a lot of crap [read: shit] done in the time I had left before I would retire [read: go to sleep].

There is a parking lot near the building in which my office is, but it's usually full on Sunday evenings because of some strange Jesus thing (freshman get together in the math building and play loud music to praise a carpenter who lived 2000 years ago). So, it was no surprise that there were no spots, and the pickup truck in front of me realized the same thing. We both decided to exit this lot, him turning left, me turning right. He had this strange "Sheriff of Nowheresville County" bumper sticker on the back of the truck, but I didn't think anything of it.

As he's deciding when he wants to turn left, I'm looking out for crossing traffic as well, so that I can find the optimal moment to exit. As soon as he sees no one coming for about 7 miles in either direction, he decides to pull out, so I turn my head and look for pedestrians. (The exit crosses a sidewalk, so you really have to keep your eyes out for pedstrians.)

I assume that he has gone, so I start to move forward as well, without turning my head forward yet. Well, as it turns out, he decided to stop in the middle of the road for some unknown reason, and by this time, I'm too close to him to stop. I slam on the brakes, but I also slam right into him. It was horrendous.

The only other accident I've been in in my life happened the same way, so I was naturally pretty upset, and I was going to chew the guy out for stopping in the middle of the road. That is, until he got out of his car.

He was wearing a police officer's uniform. That's right, he really was the sheriff of Nowheresville County.

He tells me to pull over to the side of the road so we can assess the damage. We both get out of our cars, and he pulls out his flashlight, holding it total cop style. He also unbuttons the clasp on his holster as well, so I'm a bit nervous. Here's how the conversation went:

Him: Well, what happened here?
Me: Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I totally thought you went, so I turned my head to look for pedestrians, and by the time I turned around, you had stopped in the middle of the road.
Him: Yeah, that's because my flashlight rolled off my lap down by the pedals, so I stopped to pick it up before I drove any further.
Me: Okay... [I take a deep drag off of my cigarette at this point. He buttons the clasp on the holster again. I sigh in relief.]
Him: Well, let's assess the damage.

We see that I've only scratched the bumper of his massive gas-guzzling affront to Mother Nature. However, my tank of a 1991 Buick Century stood no chance against such a behemoth. The front driver side headlight is smashed up. [Note to the reader: I had to drive to Minneapolis two days later. I absolutely needed a driveable vehicle.]

Him: I'd hate to bother some hard-working buddies of mine just to report this. If you're willing to just take the damage on the chin, we can just forget it.
Me: Is that legal?
Him: So long as I have your word that you're not going to say that I fled the scene of the accident or anything like that, yeah.
Me: Alright. You have it.

I know, I should have done something. This cop didn't want to admit that he was fucking around with his flashlight, and didn't want to get in trouble for that. However, it's my word against "The State," and not even the King Bee has a chance against that.

I drove to Car-X at 8am the next day to get my blinker fixed, since it didn't work anymore. I paid 16 dollars for a new lightbulb. Amazing.

More stories in the coming days, promise.


My friend Heather was involved in an accident back in 1995, back when the King Bee was merely a Prince. She was behind this person in the parking lot at my apartment in San Marcos. The person in front trying to go over a speed bump and didn't make it, thus causing her car to go backwards, and essentially hitting Heather's car. The police ruled that it was Heather's fault because Heather was the car in the back and the rule it that you have to give the person in front of you all the room they need. This is similar to the crappy (yet technically correct) refereeing call in the Sunday night game (maybe it was MNF) when they called the punting team for "catch interference" when after the returned muffed the punt. I think this is a crappy rule; if you can't catch it cleanly, you DESERVE to be smacked to the ground. The NFL, obviously, will not change the rule to this, but they should change it as follows (hopefully, Tagliaboooo is a fan of the King Bee's journal): the returner is given a radius of 2 yards to catch the ball; if the ball flies out of this radius, the ball and the returner are both fair game at that point. Simple enough rule, enforcement would be a judgment call on the refs part and we all know how much fun that will be. Of course, this would not be challengible.

Hase.. Ich bin auf, homies! Schadenfreude ist die schoenste freude!

Dr Num
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours? Listed on BlogShares