It could have been worse.
It really could have. This weekend was definitely bad, but it could have been worse. I'm not going to cut it, cause I don't really have much else to talk about in this particular post except it, and it's not the same if you don't read it all at once.
Friday I used a schedule flex to begin my shift at 4:00AM instead of 5:00AM so I could leave work at 12:30 instead of 1:30 and catch a plane to Houston. I wanted to see my dad. He's been kind of down lately and he's been having some problems with Patti and I wanted to cheer him up.
It started off alright. I got to the airport with just enough time to make my plane and had a small stopover in Denver where, inexplicably, there were Hula dancers, and then caught a second plane from Denver to Houston. I picked up my rental car and everything seemed to be going smoothly.
For those of you who know Houston, my father lives in the northern part of it, pretty close to the intersection of Cypresswood and Grant. I wanted to take 249 to Cypresswood, but I accidentally got off at the West exit instead from 45. Not a problem, really; I still had a pretty good idea of what I was. I was even more pleased when I got to Veteran's Memorial, because I knew that would take me where I needed to go.
On the side of the road next to the intersection where West Road hits Veteran's Memorial, there was a man on his hands and knees on the side of the road. There were no parked vehicles and no other pedestrians, and though it was a busy intersection no one was stopping or indeed appearing to take much of an interest at all.
Several things went through my mind at this point. The first was that it was dark and that though he certainly didn't appear to be a threat (and that his clothing didn't appear to conceal any weaponry), this could be some sort of ruse to trap motorists. The second was that this was a busy and well-lighted intersection and that someone else would probably stop to assist him.
But no one had.
The next thing that came to mind was one of the many times I turned my ankle at U of H walking on the grass. Once it was a pretty bad twist and I couldn't stand up. I happened to be in the grass a good distance away from the sidewalk, and though I called to several people in hopes that they might assist me, they pretended not to hear me or they just walked a little faster. I remember how shocked I was that no one would help me, how alone I felt. Finally someone did (and quite promptly too, as soon as I had a chance to explain what happened, though I was pretty near tears by that point).
That pretty much decided me, and so I stopped and asked him if he was alright. He had a lot of trouble standing up, and I was able to gather from what he told me that he was a diabetic and he needed to get to his insulin, and that his house was just a few blocks up. I helped him into my car and then followed his directions to his house. It wasn't in a particularly nice area, but the yards were mowed and his house appeared to be neatly kept.
I got him to his house and was helping him up the steps to his house when another man called from the street to ask if the first man was alright. I said no, he wasn't, and the second man came over and helped me get the first man into the house. I watched him take his insulin shot in the stomach (meh) and he seemed much better after that, and I waited a couple of minutes to make sure he was alright before taking my leave. I walked outside in time to see the second man grab my purse out of the back of my car (I'd left the passenger door open) and take off into the dark.
Feeling incredibly stupid (but not stupid enough to chase after him), I got back into my car and drove to my dad's. Once I got there I was upset at leisure, and once I got that sorted out and Adam had cancelled my check card and the checks that were in the purse, dad and I decided that we'd figure out the following day how I was going to get back on a plane due for LA on Sunday with no picture ID and I went to sleep.
The next morning we tried calling the airport, but they couldn't give us a straight answer and so we decided to drive over there. We drove through a 45 minute traffic jam on Beltway 8 to get there and then parked. We were walking towards the entrance and Dad tried to turn the alarm on, and it didn't work. We went back and he tried to start it, but it wouldn't start. We popped the hood and saw that the battery posts had a bunch of buildup, so I went inside and bought a couple of cokes and we poured them on the posts and got most of the buildup off. It appeared that one of the connectors was pretty badly damaged, but after a couple of false starts we were able to make it work long enough to start the car.
We promptly left the airport and drove back through the 45 minute traffic jam to NAPA and bought a replacement connector and installed it. That was actually sort of fun (since we were able to fix it), and we drove back through the 45 minute traffic jam (there was some construction going on) and parked again. This time the alarm went on, no problem. Feeling rather jubilant, we went inside to talk to my airline.
We talked to the attendant and he directed us to security. We questioned security and they said all I would need to get on the plane would be a copy of the police report regarding the theft. That seemed workable, and though it was a little scary that this was all anyone would need to get on a plane, they said that I'd have to go through a little extra security but that it wouldn't be any problem.
Once we had a plan of action we both felt much better, and Dad drove us to the police station downtown. This is the police station right next to the municipal courthouse on Riesner. The parking lot has one of those ticket spitter machines, and so we pulled up to it and dad pushed the button and tried to pull the ticket out. He couldn't quite reach it, and so he opened the door and reached and reached and his foot slipped off the brake.
My dad drives an Expedition, and it's got a pretty good engine, so even its rolling speed is pretty substantial. Dad tried to hit the brake and hit the accelerator instead. We brushed the booth and took out the arm and a couple of other pieces of equipment. We ran over a small curbed median before I was able to get out that he had his foot on the accelerator and not the brake, at which point he hit the break and we stopped.
His arm was sticking out of the window pretty much the entire time, and the first thing that he said was that he thought he'd broken his arm. It did appear to be at a bad angle and he had several bad scrapes on it. I had him hold that wrist with his good hand and told him not to move and then I tried to call 911 on my cell phone. The call did not go through, and so I told him again not to move and got out and pelted my way towards the courthouse.
The courthouse and the police station sit right next to each other, and there were several officers standing outside looking bored. I waved at them frantically, and they regarded me with rather cow-like expressions. Eventually a couple of them strolled over to where I was and about this time my cell phone (which I hadn't hung up) dropped me to an operator who asked what I needed. I said I needed an ambulance and gave her my city and state, and she sent me to the 911 operator who asked me where I was and sent an ambulance on its way. I was off the call and waiting by the Expedition by the time the officers got there.
The ambulance arrived and after I moved the Expedition and one of the officers had taken a statement from me regarding the accident and another officer had taken a statement from me regarding my stupidity about the purse, and we left for the hospital.
Somewhere during the mess with the ambulance before we left, I got a message from Pam asking if we were up and if I might want to hang out. I'd talked to her earlier in the morning to let her know about my purse and said we might have some time to hang out later. I messaged her back and told her that we'd been in an accident and we were headed to St. Joseph's. She immediately offered to join me there and said she was on her way.
We got to the hospital and it seemed to me (as I'm sure it seems to almost everyone who's at the hospital with an injured loved one) that everyone was moving incredibly slowly and not exhibiting a lot of interest in the obvious excruciating pain my dad was in. After some wandering around, they did manage to take a few x-rays and determined that it was not broken, just dislocated at the elbow. They put it back into place and gave him a double shot of Demerol.
Pam and Martin arrived and Pam was very sweet and sat with me and Dad until they discharged him. They gave him a sling and advised him to see his doctor on Monday.
Pam and Martin went way out of their way to assist us. They drove us back to the parking lot to get the Expedition and the police report, and then to the dealership so we could drop the Expedition off and then to the bank and then back to the house in Spring. Pam stuck around and we hung out, and that was really cool. We haven't had the time for a long face to face conversation without interruption in a long time, and it calmed me down a lot. I even felt like eating again, and we made dinner together. That was fun. We made communal meatballs. Dad went to sleep, and we talked and then it was time for her to go.
She came back on Sunday and we got to spend a few hours together going through boxes of old crap from Dad's attic and picking which books I would take home, and then just talking for a while longer until I had to go to the airport.
I came home. I even got my car. And now I need to go to sleep, so I'll stop there.
It could have been worse.
Friday I used a schedule flex to begin my shift at 4:00AM instead of 5:00AM so I could leave work at 12:30 instead of 1:30 and catch a plane to Houston. I wanted to see my dad. He's been kind of down lately and he's been having some problems with Patti and I wanted to cheer him up.
It started off alright. I got to the airport with just enough time to make my plane and had a small stopover in Denver where, inexplicably, there were Hula dancers, and then caught a second plane from Denver to Houston. I picked up my rental car and everything seemed to be going smoothly.
For those of you who know Houston, my father lives in the northern part of it, pretty close to the intersection of Cypresswood and Grant. I wanted to take 249 to Cypresswood, but I accidentally got off at the West exit instead from 45. Not a problem, really; I still had a pretty good idea of what I was. I was even more pleased when I got to Veteran's Memorial, because I knew that would take me where I needed to go.
On the side of the road next to the intersection where West Road hits Veteran's Memorial, there was a man on his hands and knees on the side of the road. There were no parked vehicles and no other pedestrians, and though it was a busy intersection no one was stopping or indeed appearing to take much of an interest at all.
Several things went through my mind at this point. The first was that it was dark and that though he certainly didn't appear to be a threat (and that his clothing didn't appear to conceal any weaponry), this could be some sort of ruse to trap motorists. The second was that this was a busy and well-lighted intersection and that someone else would probably stop to assist him.
But no one had.
The next thing that came to mind was one of the many times I turned my ankle at U of H walking on the grass. Once it was a pretty bad twist and I couldn't stand up. I happened to be in the grass a good distance away from the sidewalk, and though I called to several people in hopes that they might assist me, they pretended not to hear me or they just walked a little faster. I remember how shocked I was that no one would help me, how alone I felt. Finally someone did (and quite promptly too, as soon as I had a chance to explain what happened, though I was pretty near tears by that point).
That pretty much decided me, and so I stopped and asked him if he was alright. He had a lot of trouble standing up, and I was able to gather from what he told me that he was a diabetic and he needed to get to his insulin, and that his house was just a few blocks up. I helped him into my car and then followed his directions to his house. It wasn't in a particularly nice area, but the yards were mowed and his house appeared to be neatly kept.
I got him to his house and was helping him up the steps to his house when another man called from the street to ask if the first man was alright. I said no, he wasn't, and the second man came over and helped me get the first man into the house. I watched him take his insulin shot in the stomach (meh) and he seemed much better after that, and I waited a couple of minutes to make sure he was alright before taking my leave. I walked outside in time to see the second man grab my purse out of the back of my car (I'd left the passenger door open) and take off into the dark.
Feeling incredibly stupid (but not stupid enough to chase after him), I got back into my car and drove to my dad's. Once I got there I was upset at leisure, and once I got that sorted out and Adam had cancelled my check card and the checks that were in the purse, dad and I decided that we'd figure out the following day how I was going to get back on a plane due for LA on Sunday with no picture ID and I went to sleep.
The next morning we tried calling the airport, but they couldn't give us a straight answer and so we decided to drive over there. We drove through a 45 minute traffic jam on Beltway 8 to get there and then parked. We were walking towards the entrance and Dad tried to turn the alarm on, and it didn't work. We went back and he tried to start it, but it wouldn't start. We popped the hood and saw that the battery posts had a bunch of buildup, so I went inside and bought a couple of cokes and we poured them on the posts and got most of the buildup off. It appeared that one of the connectors was pretty badly damaged, but after a couple of false starts we were able to make it work long enough to start the car.
We promptly left the airport and drove back through the 45 minute traffic jam to NAPA and bought a replacement connector and installed it. That was actually sort of fun (since we were able to fix it), and we drove back through the 45 minute traffic jam (there was some construction going on) and parked again. This time the alarm went on, no problem. Feeling rather jubilant, we went inside to talk to my airline.
We talked to the attendant and he directed us to security. We questioned security and they said all I would need to get on the plane would be a copy of the police report regarding the theft. That seemed workable, and though it was a little scary that this was all anyone would need to get on a plane, they said that I'd have to go through a little extra security but that it wouldn't be any problem.
Once we had a plan of action we both felt much better, and Dad drove us to the police station downtown. This is the police station right next to the municipal courthouse on Riesner. The parking lot has one of those ticket spitter machines, and so we pulled up to it and dad pushed the button and tried to pull the ticket out. He couldn't quite reach it, and so he opened the door and reached and reached and his foot slipped off the brake.
My dad drives an Expedition, and it's got a pretty good engine, so even its rolling speed is pretty substantial. Dad tried to hit the brake and hit the accelerator instead. We brushed the booth and took out the arm and a couple of other pieces of equipment. We ran over a small curbed median before I was able to get out that he had his foot on the accelerator and not the brake, at which point he hit the break and we stopped.
His arm was sticking out of the window pretty much the entire time, and the first thing that he said was that he thought he'd broken his arm. It did appear to be at a bad angle and he had several bad scrapes on it. I had him hold that wrist with his good hand and told him not to move and then I tried to call 911 on my cell phone. The call did not go through, and so I told him again not to move and got out and pelted my way towards the courthouse.
The courthouse and the police station sit right next to each other, and there were several officers standing outside looking bored. I waved at them frantically, and they regarded me with rather cow-like expressions. Eventually a couple of them strolled over to where I was and about this time my cell phone (which I hadn't hung up) dropped me to an operator who asked what I needed. I said I needed an ambulance and gave her my city and state, and she sent me to the 911 operator who asked me where I was and sent an ambulance on its way. I was off the call and waiting by the Expedition by the time the officers got there.
The ambulance arrived and after I moved the Expedition and one of the officers had taken a statement from me regarding the accident and another officer had taken a statement from me regarding my stupidity about the purse, and we left for the hospital.
Somewhere during the mess with the ambulance before we left, I got a message from Pam asking if we were up and if I might want to hang out. I'd talked to her earlier in the morning to let her know about my purse and said we might have some time to hang out later. I messaged her back and told her that we'd been in an accident and we were headed to St. Joseph's. She immediately offered to join me there and said she was on her way.
We got to the hospital and it seemed to me (as I'm sure it seems to almost everyone who's at the hospital with an injured loved one) that everyone was moving incredibly slowly and not exhibiting a lot of interest in the obvious excruciating pain my dad was in. After some wandering around, they did manage to take a few x-rays and determined that it was not broken, just dislocated at the elbow. They put it back into place and gave him a double shot of Demerol.
Pam and Martin arrived and Pam was very sweet and sat with me and Dad until they discharged him. They gave him a sling and advised him to see his doctor on Monday.
Pam and Martin went way out of their way to assist us. They drove us back to the parking lot to get the Expedition and the police report, and then to the dealership so we could drop the Expedition off and then to the bank and then back to the house in Spring. Pam stuck around and we hung out, and that was really cool. We haven't had the time for a long face to face conversation without interruption in a long time, and it calmed me down a lot. I even felt like eating again, and we made dinner together. That was fun. We made communal meatballs. Dad went to sleep, and we talked and then it was time for her to go.
She came back on Sunday and we got to spend a few hours together going through boxes of old crap from Dad's attic and picking which books I would take home, and then just talking for a while longer until I had to go to the airport.
I came home. I even got my car. And now I need to go to sleep, so I'll stop there.
It could have been worse.