There is no point writing another letter. I already wrote one to the jerk who stole my mum and the jerk who broke my car window. It seems silly now to even attempt to address this blog to the jerk who smashed into my car yesterday. This is life in the city. Take it in, breath it out. Repeat.
So yesterday I was driving home from a busy work week. I had just had a little encounter with one of my student's mothers who decided, instead of sorting out miscommunication between me and her, instead its best to just scream at me. I was in the lobby surrounded by many others and I just stood there in shock of her willingness to display inappropriate behavior. Sigh. Silly people.
But nothing was bringing me down, I thought after the encounter. I mean for God's sakes it was Friday and I had just got paid and lastly I was on my way to happy hour. What else do I need?
So my teacher friend and I were on our way to drop off my car and then go get a cerveza. I was cruising down the road in my 98' Prizm in the -18 weather but hell- I could have rolled down the windows, because the three day weekend had arrived. We were on Sacramento and as I drove through a green light suddenly a white Marques comes barreling towards me. Most normal people with basic intelligence KNOW that when you make a left turn, FIRST you drive to the center of the intersection look for a clearing in oncoming traffic and then turn.
But there it was. This massive old Marques plummeting towards me in a wide circled turn as if he took about six-eight shots and then decided driving would be a fun happy hour activity. I stepped on the gas and tried to speed up. Crunching metal blasted through my car. I screeched my car to a stop as cars blasted their horns and whipped past me. My back bumper was dangling off my car like a lonely dog left to go astray. Looking up the guy in the car glances back at me and then drives off. Just like that. The cold air is setting into my cheeks and my fingers are wrinkling by the frigid breeze. Suddenly summer is gone and here I am on Sacramento and Augusta, cars zipping around the disaster I've become.
Then something miraculous happened. Humanity appeared. A car pulled over and gave me a description of the guy. He said, "He was somewhere in his 20s, actually like 29, and dark hair, real dark like jet black ..." and on he went with a vivid description. I thanked him by his careful observation of life's daily happenings and off he went.
Then suddenly a cab began reversing down the busy road towards me. My friend and I thought, "Oh God PLEASE! We need to wait for the cops, why is this cab driver pestering us to take his cab?!"
The cab driver got out and gestured for me to roll down my window. "Oh ma'am I sped down the street when I saw what happened to you! I followed that man who hit you! Here is his license and the make/model of his car. Oh ma'am I wrote it down for you." I was in shock at his humanity and good will. He requested to remain anonymous but gave me the note card with the information jotted down like chicken scribbles. "My gift to you." And off he went into the winter night.
We were relieved at the information and began drumming the dashboard as we waited for a cop to show up to make a police report. And we waited. And Waited.
"If I were bleeding to death I would be pretty much dead by now," I said to my friend. I got out of my car again to inspect the damage. I really didn't want to wait for a slow ass tow truck to show up. I began pulling at the dangling bumper hoping I could get it to come off completely.
Suddenly a man with a little girl showed up. "Can I help you?!"
I looked at him and his little girl bundled up and said, "Well, yes could you pull my bumper off?!" He tugged at his brown dirt worned gloves and yanked until my bumper popped off. Hoisting it, he crammed it in my back seat. I thanked him and off he went.
The sun was setting now and we were still waiting at the entrance of Humboldt Park. I remember reading about various crimes that take place in this park. "In about 25 minutes we will end up getting mugged or shot if they don't hurry up," I told my friend who sat patiently by my side.
We blasted "If I were a boy," and stared at the jet blue sky turning to the color of ink.
The police man finally did show up. He was polite and kept asking us if were were okay. He said they had the guys address and they would take him to court for numerous offense's. Who knows. I thought about my 500 deductable that is coming out of my pocket and how much it sucked. I thought about it about two blocks down Sacramento as we finally drove home. Then for some reason I just didn't care. Because although people out there do things to us that hurt or inconvenience us horribly, and God doesn't it make you want to hate city living or just sum up that everyone out there sucks. Everyone but a few. Although the idea went through my head to feel this way, instead I felt kind of relieved. Relieved that I was okay and peaceful at the fact there are good souls. Four of them showed up today in the midst of my chaotic moment. There are about three or four good souls to balance out the ones who do these things to us and our '98 Prizms. Because those 'sucky' people have their reasons too and I will never know his or why he looked back at me, standing in the middle of the intersection staring at my smashed up car, and then decided to drive away. But it doesn't really matter, because yes Chicago is city life at its finest and worse. Its -15 degrees but God it is full of humanity.
As we turned down Armitage my friend and I looked at each other, "Happy hour???"
We laughed and nodded and drove my crackling car home.
No comments:
Post a Comment