The attention we crave...
I always think it's funny how people react to sensational situations that attract gossip. They either:
A) Relish in the attention, speaking just a little louder than necessary in the event that there may be an interested bystander within earshot. (Attention whoredom)
OR
B) Get very quiet, very red in the face, and very angry at the countless people who are attempting to make a public event out of a personal mishap. (Shameless introversion)
Last night my father and I got into a car accident while stopping to let a mother and a few children cross the street (don't worry, we're both 150% physically OK).
This was hardly your typical, small town, rednecks at Dunkin' Donuts fender bender. This was the work of a madman speed demon shooting down the road at 80 mph, slamming into the rear right of our car, skidding around and crashing through the window of a nearby bar.
Interested?
..it gets better.
The man, who was accuratly described the next morning in The News Times as a "small, hispanic man about 5 ft 5 in. in height" then proceeded to jump out of the window of his truck, face hemorrhaging, and ran through an alley and away from the crime scene.
...the police have yet to find him - but the man (genius that he clearly is) did leave his vehicle (license plates attached, insurance cards in the glove compartment) behind and so I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he's tracked down...that is unless he bleeds to death first, I suppose.
But getting back to the point.
After the typical violent shouts and police questioning that follows even the most minor of automobile collisions, my father and I waited in the rain as my mother carefully made her way from Bethel to take us back home.
I nearly decked the reporter who insisted that the entire situation was rather "funny", prepared myself for the life sentence I was going to get upon murdering the 20 rednecks, drunks, bored college students, and others who continually asked me what all the commotion was (because clearly when a third of a pick-up truck is sticking inside the bar through a shattered window...it's difficult to tell that there was an accident somewhere in the vacinity), and cursed myself for not bringing with me the 3 packs of cigarettes I needed to suck into my lungs.
My father on the other hand was more jovial than I think I've ever seen him in my life. He joked with the reporter saying the same, pitiful "That's what I get for doing the right thing" over and over again to ensure that he was quoted in the next morning's paper (And kudos to him I suppose, because he was indeed). He gladly repeated the story to every one of the local drunks who wanted to shake the hand of the man who was involved in the greatest car crash in Danbury, CT. They took pictures with their cell phones, offered to buy him drinks, offered to testify on his behalf should the ordeal find its way into a court room...and my father ate it all up...I think part of him was happy that night that his newly shredded car was on a tow truck making its way to a garage that will charge him more than he can afford. He was living the dream...someone finally noticed him.
I guess in the end I can't fault him for acting the way he did, he certainly got through it a hell of a lot better than I did.
I just can't help but pity the man who is so attention depraved that he needs a car accident to escalate his self-worth.
A) Relish in the attention, speaking just a little louder than necessary in the event that there may be an interested bystander within earshot. (Attention whoredom)
OR
B) Get very quiet, very red in the face, and very angry at the countless people who are attempting to make a public event out of a personal mishap. (Shameless introversion)
Last night my father and I got into a car accident while stopping to let a mother and a few children cross the street (don't worry, we're both 150% physically OK).
This was hardly your typical, small town, rednecks at Dunkin' Donuts fender bender. This was the work of a madman speed demon shooting down the road at 80 mph, slamming into the rear right of our car, skidding around and crashing through the window of a nearby bar.
Interested?
..it gets better.
The man, who was accuratly described the next morning in The News Times as a "small, hispanic man about 5 ft 5 in. in height" then proceeded to jump out of the window of his truck, face hemorrhaging, and ran through an alley and away from the crime scene.
...the police have yet to find him - but the man (genius that he clearly is) did leave his vehicle (license plates attached, insurance cards in the glove compartment) behind and so I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he's tracked down...that is unless he bleeds to death first, I suppose.
But getting back to the point.
After the typical violent shouts and police questioning that follows even the most minor of automobile collisions, my father and I waited in the rain as my mother carefully made her way from Bethel to take us back home.
I nearly decked the reporter who insisted that the entire situation was rather "funny", prepared myself for the life sentence I was going to get upon murdering the 20 rednecks, drunks, bored college students, and others who continually asked me what all the commotion was (because clearly when a third of a pick-up truck is sticking inside the bar through a shattered window...it's difficult to tell that there was an accident somewhere in the vacinity), and cursed myself for not bringing with me the 3 packs of cigarettes I needed to suck into my lungs.
My father on the other hand was more jovial than I think I've ever seen him in my life. He joked with the reporter saying the same, pitiful "That's what I get for doing the right thing" over and over again to ensure that he was quoted in the next morning's paper (And kudos to him I suppose, because he was indeed). He gladly repeated the story to every one of the local drunks who wanted to shake the hand of the man who was involved in the greatest car crash in Danbury, CT. They took pictures with their cell phones, offered to buy him drinks, offered to testify on his behalf should the ordeal find its way into a court room...and my father ate it all up...I think part of him was happy that night that his newly shredded car was on a tow truck making its way to a garage that will charge him more than he can afford. He was living the dream...someone finally noticed him.
I guess in the end I can't fault him for acting the way he did, he certainly got through it a hell of a lot better than I did.
I just can't help but pity the man who is so attention depraved that he needs a car accident to escalate his self-worth.