Car accidents are so tiresome.
I was stopped in traffic and I heard tires squealing. The guy in front of me, obeying some stroke of preternatural genius, reflexively pulled forward to separate himself from the people behind him--including me. Next thing I know I'm thrown against my steering wheel and my glasses have flown across the dash to fold neatly under the windshield. Good show, glasses. They're fine, by the way.
I was already stopped, so I just switched into park and hit my emergency flashers to get out and see what happened.
The people behind me had lightly tapped me because someone had slammed into them from behind. The pickup in the very back... I don't know what their deal was, but they seemed to understand that this was on them and were both apologetic and willing to act as interpreters for the people in the middle car.
Those poor people didn't speak much English, had a car too fucked up to drive home, and while they had insurance the lady driving didn't have a license. I hope that doesn't mean they're undocumented and are going to get deported because someone hit their car. Because holy shit.
So basically, truck hits car, car hits me. Like the frontmost ball hanging in one of those little executive ballclicker things, despite the negligible damage (seriously, my bumper stickers are fine) I was thrown forward against my steering wheel. I have some little cuts on my left eyebrow and will probably have a heck of a bruise there.
One of the ladies in the middle car pointed at my eyebrow, grinned, and put up her fists, implying that I looked like I'd been in a fight. I laughed, put mine up too, and said, "Yeah, that's me," and it was nice to make light of it.
So yes. I am fine. I am not going to constantly fucking reiterate that I am fine because I'm a little rattled and icing my face and would much rather laugh at the situation than spend a bunch of time reassuring people over it.
The guys were over with Brian gaming, and commented that I do in fact look like I was in a fight. It's right over my eyebrow. They accused me of having invented this accident as a cover story to hide my underground boxing hobby. Sure. That's what we'll go with.
Naproxen and ice.
I just wanted some fuckin' fish cake to go in my ramen. No international grocery for me today. Alas. I'll just sit here icing this nonsense.
I was stopped in traffic and I heard tires squealing. The guy in front of me, obeying some stroke of preternatural genius, reflexively pulled forward to separate himself from the people behind him--including me. Next thing I know I'm thrown against my steering wheel and my glasses have flown across the dash to fold neatly under the windshield. Good show, glasses. They're fine, by the way.
I was already stopped, so I just switched into park and hit my emergency flashers to get out and see what happened.
The people behind me had lightly tapped me because someone had slammed into them from behind. The pickup in the very back... I don't know what their deal was, but they seemed to understand that this was on them and were both apologetic and willing to act as interpreters for the people in the middle car.
Those poor people didn't speak much English, had a car too fucked up to drive home, and while they had insurance the lady driving didn't have a license. I hope that doesn't mean they're undocumented and are going to get deported because someone hit their car. Because holy shit.
So basically, truck hits car, car hits me. Like the frontmost ball hanging in one of those little executive ballclicker things, despite the negligible damage (seriously, my bumper stickers are fine) I was thrown forward against my steering wheel. I have some little cuts on my left eyebrow and will probably have a heck of a bruise there.
One of the ladies in the middle car pointed at my eyebrow, grinned, and put up her fists, implying that I looked like I'd been in a fight. I laughed, put mine up too, and said, "Yeah, that's me," and it was nice to make light of it.
So yes. I am fine. I am not going to constantly fucking reiterate that I am fine because I'm a little rattled and icing my face and would much rather laugh at the situation than spend a bunch of time reassuring people over it.
The guys were over with Brian gaming, and commented that I do in fact look like I was in a fight. It's right over my eyebrow. They accused me of having invented this accident as a cover story to hide my underground boxing hobby. Sure. That's what we'll go with.
Naproxen and ice.
I just wanted some fuckin' fish cake to go in my ramen. No international grocery for me today. Alas. I'll just sit here icing this nonsense.