"Just When I Thought Things Couldn't Possibly Get Worse..."

So last week I fell in a puddle. And this week I have a new punchline to the setup "Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get worse..."

I got in a car accident. A stupid little one. It wasn't so much a crash as two cars bumping shoulders in a crowded hallway.

Last night I met up with my sister and Kesila for an after work drink. After an hour or two, we left to go to a friend's birthday party. Each of us drove separately.

I retrieved my car from valet parking, paid the attendant, and got behind the wheel. I waited for a pack of cars to pass by so I could pull away from the curb. Finally, the last car passed by, so I pulled out. But at the same time I was leaving valet, the other car was slowing down to park at the valet next door. (I know, only in Los Angeles...hardy har.) So we collided. I'm not entirely sure how I managed to drive into him and I wasn't even sure that I had, but the car immediately pulled to the side of the road, so I did the same.

I waited in my car while the man in the other car got out, looked at the area near his rear tire, and freaked out. Great.

Another guy got out from the passenger side and stood still while the driver (henceforth referred to as Guy) continued waving his arms in the air and pacing. Finally, I got up the nerve to get out of the car. At the same time, my sister walked up, having seen the whole thing happen because she was pulling out right behind me.

Right away I apologized to Guy, even though I know you're not supposed to admit fault in an accident. But I really was sorry. I thought that his temper tantrum was just a reaction to the circumstance, and that he'd be reasonable with me. After all, an accident's an accident.

But no. Instead he came at me with "Look at this! These are custom rims!" Yeah, I really care. "You've ruined my night!" Wow, way to make it personal.

I looked down at the damage and saw some small, barely noticeable dents. I was expecting much worse, and was relieved. But now I still had to deal with Guy.

"I didn't mean to ruin your night. It was just an accident. And I have insurance. Let me just get my card." I turned to walk back to my car to retrieve my card when he says, "I'm not going to call the police and bring them into this. Although it's good to get a police report."

"Yeah okay." I mean, who ever feels like doing that.

"Are you drunk?" Guy asks.

"On 2 glasses of wine? Obviously you don't know me," is what I felt like saying in response. But that would have had the effect of actually making me appear drunk. So I gave him a straight "no."

My sister chimed in at this point. "If you call the police they'll take forever to get here anyway. They don't care. My boyfriend's a cop--"

"Yeah you don't need to bother," added Guy's friend.

"Okay. So I'll go get my insurance card then." I had a feeling this was going to take forever. Then a valet attendant jogged up to me. "Excuse me, miss. Would you move your car? It's blocking the driveway." Man, I'm getting shit from everyone!

When I got back to Guy, he still hadn't lightened up. I handed him my insurance card. "And I'll need your driver's license too." There's nothing I love more than being talked to like I'm in trouble by a guy who has no authority over me. So I hand over my license. "And do you have a pen?" Boy oh boy.  So I fish around in my purse and pull out a pen for him.  

Guy walks away to start writing everything down. My sister was bored with the whole scene and left. Guy's friend says, "He's cool. Sorry he's acting like this. He's just upset because earlier this week someone else hit his mirror."

"Oh, I get it." Then we stood there in silence for a moment before Guy came storming back over to give me another lecture about custom rims. Then he took down my phone number. And then read it back to me. And then called my phone to make sure it was a real number. And then he ranted on about how someone had hit his car earlier this week, as though I'd had something to do with it. I had just about reached my limit. I felt like saying "Your car isn't that great" or "You know, bad things come in threes, so stay tuned!"

But I was determined to make him succumb to my undeniable charm. "You know, everyone's okay here. You've got my insurance information, they'll take care of everything. Just put it out of your mind and have a great night."

Guy smiled the world's tiniest smile and said, "How am I going to pick up girls with my car looking like this?" Ah-ha! I'd was getting to him.

"If a girl inspects your car before she goes home with you, you don't want her anyway," I joked. Guy's friend laughed, but Guy had gone back to looking at the damage and making tsking sounds. Ah well, you can't win em all.

By this point I really didn't know what else we could possibly do, unless Guy wanted me to swab my cheek for a DNA sample or take pictures of me pointing to the dents and making an exaggerated frowny face. So I asked, "Are we good now? Can I go?" And I was dismissed.

I got back in my car and gave myself a moment to regroup. And just when I thought things couldn't possibly get worse, I realized Guy kept my pen.