poor charlie
Well, it's official. I can now say that I've gotten into a car crash.
So I was on my way back home from Waltham, and I was turning onto Wellesley St. from Route 30 (none of you probably know what I'm talking about, but suffice it to say that I was making a left turn at an intersection), all proud of myself coz I was going really slowly and being careful about it, when all of the sudden, a car comes off Route 30 in the opposite direction I was coming from...damn trees being in the way. Luckily, we were both going slowly, but Charlie's bumper still fell off when I hit the other car's left front corner. So anyway, we both parked on the side of the road, obviously, and I started having a nervous breakdown because not only are my hormones all out of wack, making everything seem like a much bigger deal than it is, but I also didn't have my cell phone because I'd left it home to charge, and the ladies in the other car didn't have one, either. But they were really really nice, thank god, and neither of them were hurt...one of them was 70 and the other one was her 91-year-old mother, and they kept having to hug me and tell me advice, and then their friend was passing by and saw them and stopped, so I had three old women comforting me. They gave me words of wisdom on life, which was funny, considering that we'd just crashed into each other.
But anyway, so then I had to go to the police station and wait for my dad to come pick me up. So I'm standing there drinking the Sprite the dispatcher offered me, when this woman comes in to talk to the police. Apparently, she was trying to get the report filed about some girl who'd been stealing her protest signs so that she could sue...only, as it turns out, the girl'd been caught for stealing the signs from someone else's lawn, so the police officer was like, "WTF, you're on crack," only she said it a little bit nicer than that. And they were talking and blah blah blah I was trying not to listen and stared at the badges they had on the wall from all the different police districts or whatever it is you call them, when I turned around to get a napkin and the woman goes, "I'm sure it was some young person who's doing it," and she gives me this awful glare. I wanted to be like, "Look, lady, I didn't steal your damned signs, I'm here because I got into my first car crash and I'm a little upset right now, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't blame your little problems on everyone in my age group, kay? Thanks." Only I didn't, because if I'd tried to say that, I would've started crying, and something tells me that the effect of my tirade would've gotten lost in my blubbering.
But yes. I need a hug.
So I was on my way back home from Waltham, and I was turning onto Wellesley St. from Route 30 (none of you probably know what I'm talking about, but suffice it to say that I was making a left turn at an intersection), all proud of myself coz I was going really slowly and being careful about it, when all of the sudden, a car comes off Route 30 in the opposite direction I was coming from...damn trees being in the way. Luckily, we were both going slowly, but Charlie's bumper still fell off when I hit the other car's left front corner. So anyway, we both parked on the side of the road, obviously, and I started having a nervous breakdown because not only are my hormones all out of wack, making everything seem like a much bigger deal than it is, but I also didn't have my cell phone because I'd left it home to charge, and the ladies in the other car didn't have one, either. But they were really really nice, thank god, and neither of them were hurt...one of them was 70 and the other one was her 91-year-old mother, and they kept having to hug me and tell me advice, and then their friend was passing by and saw them and stopped, so I had three old women comforting me. They gave me words of wisdom on life, which was funny, considering that we'd just crashed into each other.
But anyway, so then I had to go to the police station and wait for my dad to come pick me up. So I'm standing there drinking the Sprite the dispatcher offered me, when this woman comes in to talk to the police. Apparently, she was trying to get the report filed about some girl who'd been stealing her protest signs so that she could sue...only, as it turns out, the girl'd been caught for stealing the signs from someone else's lawn, so the police officer was like, "WTF, you're on crack," only she said it a little bit nicer than that. And they were talking and blah blah blah I was trying not to listen and stared at the badges they had on the wall from all the different police districts or whatever it is you call them, when I turned around to get a napkin and the woman goes, "I'm sure it was some young person who's doing it," and she gives me this awful glare. I wanted to be like, "Look, lady, I didn't steal your damned signs, I'm here because I got into my first car crash and I'm a little upset right now, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't blame your little problems on everyone in my age group, kay? Thanks." Only I didn't, because if I'd tried to say that, I would've started crying, and something tells me that the effect of my tirade would've gotten lost in my blubbering.
But yes. I need a hug.