Waiting 3 hours for the cops
Ugg, I'm able to write this without getting really really mad, I'm only really mad now.
I was so excited yesterday that I got out of my NICU Fundamentals class two hours early, but still got paid for those two hours. I was driving home listening to Two Step (feeling all DMB nostalgic) when literally BAM...
That was the beginning of a three hour wait for the MPD to send a traffic cop to the 18/2 mile marker of East bound 240. I couldn't get out of my car because I was afraid to open the door on the right shoulder of this express way. I called the cops, then my mom, then my insurance company all for advice on what to do. The guy came up to my passenger side door with all of his info, and I told him I'd already called the cops and would be more comfortable waiting on them to be there. He gets irritated that I've already called the cops and asks me if I have anything to do in the next 2 hours, I say no, and I'd prefer waiting for the police. My brother got screwed over one time by a guy that hit him and wanted to just exchange insurance information. I'd never been in a car accident as a driver. The only accident's I've been in are as passengers, and I had no idea what to do.
So he goes back to his car. Minutes later a TDOT Help Truck arrives, asks if I'm ok, checks on the guy that hit me, and comes back to my car. He tells me to go ahead and turn on my A/C because rush hour traffic is about to start and the cops may be a while. So I wait, and wait, and wait.
2 hours after he hits my car, he comes up again with a piece of paper. His button down shirt is now unbuttoned to reveal his undershirt that reads "Rock Out with your Cock Out" and tells me that he doesn't really want to wait any longer, and he has to teach a class soon. In my mind I'm thinking, yeah right, with that shirt on, what are you going to teach? I tell him that I've already given all my personal info to the police, and we've already been here two hours, we might as well wait for the police. He gets pissed, and walks off. I have already memorized his license plate number, because after the wreck, he pulled infront of my on the shoulder.
Another hour passes, and here he comes again. He says, "look I called the police, and we can go up the road to the East Precint and file a report." I don't know where that is, and his landmark that he gives me is Platinum Plus. "You don't know where Platinum Plus is?" he looks really befuddled. I know where it is, that's where Lindsey rolled down the window and shouted "Daddy?", but I thought, that's really nice, a strip club, not the car dealerships that litter Mt.Moriah, a strip club.
So we pull in, and get out of our cars. I am wearing my Winnie the Pooh Heffalump scrub top, and he's wearing his "Rocking" tee shirt as we go into the police station. No one says a word as we wait for the police officer to get off the phone. She's taking a report about a purse that was stolen from a gas station.
She gets off the phone, takes our report. We have to go outside so she can look at the cars, and get information from the guy that was riding with the Rock Out guy. His friend makes some smart ass comment about waiting longer, and wasting more time. Number 1: It's NOT my fault that his friend hit up my car, Number 2: It's not my fault the MPD sucks.
She looks at the cars, we exchange info, and I leave, and he goes inside to get his ticket. My car seems to just have damage to the bumper, but when I drive home, and go over 60mph on the expressway, the weird noises start, and the breaks start making more noises. I get home around 7ish, and try to call his insurance company...HOLIDAY WEKEND, and they won't be open until Monday morning at 8am, when is when I'll be at work. So I'm stuck all weekend with a fahk'd up car.
Nice way to spend the two hours after you get out of class early.
I was so excited yesterday that I got out of my NICU Fundamentals class two hours early, but still got paid for those two hours. I was driving home listening to Two Step (feeling all DMB nostalgic) when literally BAM...
That was the beginning of a three hour wait for the MPD to send a traffic cop to the 18/2 mile marker of East bound 240. I couldn't get out of my car because I was afraid to open the door on the right shoulder of this express way. I called the cops, then my mom, then my insurance company all for advice on what to do. The guy came up to my passenger side door with all of his info, and I told him I'd already called the cops and would be more comfortable waiting on them to be there. He gets irritated that I've already called the cops and asks me if I have anything to do in the next 2 hours, I say no, and I'd prefer waiting for the police. My brother got screwed over one time by a guy that hit him and wanted to just exchange insurance information. I'd never been in a car accident as a driver. The only accident's I've been in are as passengers, and I had no idea what to do.
So he goes back to his car. Minutes later a TDOT Help Truck arrives, asks if I'm ok, checks on the guy that hit me, and comes back to my car. He tells me to go ahead and turn on my A/C because rush hour traffic is about to start and the cops may be a while. So I wait, and wait, and wait.
2 hours after he hits my car, he comes up again with a piece of paper. His button down shirt is now unbuttoned to reveal his undershirt that reads "Rock Out with your Cock Out" and tells me that he doesn't really want to wait any longer, and he has to teach a class soon. In my mind I'm thinking, yeah right, with that shirt on, what are you going to teach? I tell him that I've already given all my personal info to the police, and we've already been here two hours, we might as well wait for the police. He gets pissed, and walks off. I have already memorized his license plate number, because after the wreck, he pulled infront of my on the shoulder.
Another hour passes, and here he comes again. He says, "look I called the police, and we can go up the road to the East Precint and file a report." I don't know where that is, and his landmark that he gives me is Platinum Plus. "You don't know where Platinum Plus is?" he looks really befuddled. I know where it is, that's where Lindsey rolled down the window and shouted "Daddy?", but I thought, that's really nice, a strip club, not the car dealerships that litter Mt.Moriah, a strip club.
So we pull in, and get out of our cars. I am wearing my Winnie the Pooh Heffalump scrub top, and he's wearing his "Rocking" tee shirt as we go into the police station. No one says a word as we wait for the police officer to get off the phone. She's taking a report about a purse that was stolen from a gas station.
She gets off the phone, takes our report. We have to go outside so she can look at the cars, and get information from the guy that was riding with the Rock Out guy. His friend makes some smart ass comment about waiting longer, and wasting more time. Number 1: It's NOT my fault that his friend hit up my car, Number 2: It's not my fault the MPD sucks.
She looks at the cars, we exchange info, and I leave, and he goes inside to get his ticket. My car seems to just have damage to the bumper, but when I drive home, and go over 60mph on the expressway, the weird noises start, and the breaks start making more noises. I get home around 7ish, and try to call his insurance company...HOLIDAY WEKEND, and they won't be open until Monday morning at 8am, when is when I'll be at work. So I'm stuck all weekend with a fahk'd up car.
Nice way to spend the two hours after you get out of class early.