On the Way to Breakfeast...
by Gail Balentine
For
the past two years, on the first Saturday of the month, three friends and I
have met for breakfast at our local IHOP. We laugh, commiserate about work,
life’s ups and downs, and offer unsolicited advice. I love getting together
with them and look forward to it each month.
On a clear, crisp March day I
overslept and had to rush. I had been up late the night before and was
bleary-eyed but that didn’t bother me. I was always in a great mood on Breakfast
Day. As I backed out of the driveway, I saw a red light blink on the car dashboard
but got distracted trying to avoid the neighbor’s trash barrel that had blown
into the middle of the street and forgot about the light.
When I pulled up at the end of my
street I was surprised by the line of cars going by. Eight o’clock on Saturday
was usually pretty quiet. I was trying to think if there was some event going
on in town that I had forgotten but the traffic went right out of my head when
the noises started.
A mild clunk, followed by a much
louder clang. Oh no, not today! I held my breath but when there were no
further noises, I told myself it wasn’t very far to the restaurant, sent up a
little prayer, and cut into traffic. Everything was calm and quiet until, as I
coasted to a stop at the traffic light, there was a ferocious wrenching sound
followed by a loud thud. The radio, the heater, the engine – everything stopped
cold.
The traffic light turned green but I
could not move. The lady in the car behind me started honking her horn. I got
out of the car, careful to dodge the cars coming from the other direction. That
same lady and the two behind her began a symphony of toots. I ignored them and
looked under my car. Sure enough, there was my engine, or at least some part of
it, laying right on the ground. I never knew your car engine could just drop
out like that.
When the horns continued, I tried to
use hand gestures to tell the woman behind me to go around but she shook her
head no. I walked over to her car window to explain but she wouldn’t listen.
She just kept telling me, loudly, to move my junk heap.
As I turned to leave, I slipped on an oil slick coming
from under my car. And when I stood up, I had to use her nice, shiny Cadillac
for support, leaving very clear handprints on the white bumper and hood. The man
next in line, now too impatient to wait, pulled out to the left around me and
promptly hit the first lady’s car because she apparently had decided she had to
save her car from me and she swung out wide
at the same time that he moved. A screech of brakes joined the honks when a car
coming fast from the other direction saw what was happening. Unfortunately, the
car behind him did not see and hit the first car’s bumper.
By this time, there were so many
horns blaring and people out of their cars yelling and pointing, mostly at me,
that I couldn’t hear myself think. I reached for my cell phone. There was no
charge – it blinked on long enough to tell me I was not going to be able to use
it.
Next came the police siren.
Two officers got out of the cruiser. One went to the
cars heading east and started separating them and taking notes. The other came
to me and the people heading west, who were now questioning both my heritage
and my IQ.
I was relieved to see the officer.
He said, “Lady, you gotta move this car.”
Since it was obvious my car was not
going anywhere, I assumed he was trying to lighten the mood with a joke.
Thinking it was great to show a sense of humor at a time like that, I went
along the gag and said, “Yes, well, if I can find my Wonder Woman gear, I’ll do
just that.”
It was the strange way he looked at
me when he said, “What did you just say to me?” that made me realize I
might have read him wrong.
From that point on I switched gears
and was very respectful, answering his questions, and showing him my license. A
tow truck driver arrived in short order, assessed the situation quickly, tapped
me on the shoulder and said he was going to try to get my car on his flatbed truck
but it might take a while with the engine literally on the ground. I said to do
whatever he had to do, I had AAA. I dug around in my purse and handed him the
card. He pointed out that it had expired three months earlier. He said he would
tow the car to the nearest garage and bill me.
The officer said he’d give me a ride
to the police station to complete the paperwork. I think he was trying to
protect me. As I got into the cruiser, the woman from the car behind me yelled,
“Look! He’s arresting her!” Several people, more than several actually, started
applauding.
We went to the station. The first
thing I did was call my friend Joan to come get me but the call went to
messages, which was odd since at that point she had to be sitting at the
restaurant, wondering where I was.
When all the questions on the form
had been answered, the officer asked me to sign in several places. Having been
taught to never sign anything until you read it first, I started at the top,
with the date. I didn’t get any further.
“Um, officer?” It was hard to talk
around the lump in my throat.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure about this day and
date?”
“What? Yes, I’m sure. Today is Friday, March
….”
Friday?
It would be later that evening, as I
consoled myself with the idea that the whole incident was behind me, that a
friend called and I learned I was a ‘star’. Someone had obviously videoed my
exchange with the officer and my Wonder Woman joke was a smash hit on You
Tube - 1,457 hits and counting.
*****
