Monday, July 12, 2004

There's a Dave Matthews' song title that says what happened to me on friday.

Some of you might know it. Crash. Good song, bad event. Hm. I should, however, start at the beginning.
You might remember friday -- it was cold, icky and just generally gross. I was looking forward to going home, reading and drinking hot chocolate, phoning kora and maybe going to see a movie. Nothing unusual -- if anything I was lamenting the lack of fun-ness that my life seems to hold at this particular juncture. I was neglecting my emailish duties (I've told myself I was going to email Judy for a week and a half now), and just being lazy.

I was also feeling fat.
That was my Friday, and it continued on from work, to the car and on my way home. Traffic was surprisingly sparse going in my direction: I had somehow made it to the four way stop by 4:45 pm -- something that frequently takes me until 5:50-5:00. I was going west. There was (as per usual) a HUGE line of cars going east. I had both my hands on the wheel: that particular road is rather unstable, and it was raining. My lights were on and my radio was playing some incredibly happy song which is at this point, forgotten. My mind had started to turn to a moderately happy theme: it was Friday! I was free for the weekend! She came out from a driveway, hidden by the Eastbound traffic. I hit the breaks and felt them lock. I turned my car to the right and moved as far as I could onto the (nonexistant) shoulder. It made no difference. I realized there was going to be a crash a split-second before it happened: the only thing I had time to think of was "I really hope this isn't my fault." The impact itself wasn't slow: I remember absorbing the shock into my forearms, grunting and jerking forward(thank you Tae Kwon Do -- taught me to breathe out on impact). It was what happened afterwards that was slow. Her car spun out of controll, hit a red tercell with a middle-aged lady in it and a black forerunner with a woman and four children in it and slid, I swear to God it was slowly, into a ditch.

I can't tell you what was running through my mind when I watched the tail lights dissapear over the edge. I sat in my car, staring, literally unable to think of anything to do. Should I get out of the car? Am I supposed to help them? Were they okay(please please please God let them be okay)? Was my car okay? It was at that point I looked at the car, and saw something or other hanging out of it.

I hoped to high heaven that I could drive it home. THAT was optimistic.

Some cars started driving by, eager to get home: to not have to be a witness. Now that makes me angry. Then it just dismayed me -- I had to get to and from my car, and was too afraid to try to cross the road. Everything dismayed me then. I didn't know what to do. As far as I knew, my parents were in Romania, and most of my friends were at school or work or something. I was completely lost and hopeless.

I opened the door, and sat there for a second. Then I realized that the little bell that told me my lights were on was dinging. I absently turned them off, then the car. I left the keys in the ignition: I didn't figure someone would try to steal it now.

Everyone was okay. There were two people in the car that was in the ditch, and those that I mentioned above -- a lady with four kids and another woman. Some were stiff -- I felt okay. I was a little stiff; my left arm was weak and today is still a little tired…but it feels okay. My neck is completely better. Or, 99% better.

I called everyone I could think of. Nobody was home. Nobody could do anything. I spent 45 mins in terror that I would somehow have nowhere to go. I wandered around in shock, until I finally got ahold of Christa and she came to get me. I cried on and off throughout that time -- big tears. The kind that Sen cries in Sprited Away when Haku gives her the enchanted rice thing.

Christa bought me a latte and we went home. I picked up the mail, fed the dog and listened to the messages. Mom hadn't been right - my parents were home on Friday, not Saturday. And, they wanted to know, where was i?

The rest was fairly routine -- I told everybody who would listen, went to bed early and slept for a solid twelve hours (except for that freakishly large thunderclap at 8:30, which took me COMPLETELY by surprise.). Oh, but the ICBC lady I got had also been the lady who talked to all the other cars from the accident. She said that our stories were all consistent, and that she didn't see any way that I could be held liable. Which was an immense relief.

And so. While the adrenaline felt good, I figured that the method of getting it could probably be improved upon. I'll stick to roller coasters, thank you.

Believe it or not I had something else that I wanted to post, but I figured that this would probably be a good idea: get it out of the way 'n all.

The Moral
Being in an accident is a sucky way to spend a Friday.