...All I wanted was some delicious Wendy's...
Sunday night. 11:40PM. The office network has crashed, bringing all production to a screeching halt. In an effort to utilize our down-time, the supervisors send us to lunch early. Excited by the prospect of eating real food--not sketchy gas station rations--my fellow encoders and I excitedly haul ass to the Time Clock and proceed to the pitch-black parking lot.I hop into my sweet ride and set my sights on the closest/quickest restaurant around: Wendy's. I've never been to this location, but it's just off the highway, so I won't need my GPS. At the intersection, I'm left with two choices: Go straight into the desolate woodland road and hope for a side entrance, or make a right onto the Highway and make a quick left into the combo Exxon/Wendy's. I choose the latter.
Now on the highway, I see that there's no turn left lane into the Exxon, so I'll have to wing it. I pump my brakes in preparation, and in the distance, I see over a dozen pairs of headlights slowly creeping toward me. To avoid a 3-minute wait, I quickly hang a left, my eyes searching the ground for some type of entrance markings. Nothing.
That's when I hear it. A sound I've only ever heard on Sound Effects tapes, the indistinguishable sound of crushed metal. I glance to my left, expecting to see a crash on that poorly-lit side road, when suddenly my windshield goes WHITE and I see something sandy over my hood. I attempt to swerve before letting out an "OH SH----!" I'm airborne.
POP! Within milliseconds, my vehicle implodes upon itself. My CD collection is sprawled across the floor, both air bags have deployed, my glasses have been knocked off, and my neck is craned backwards like a Pez dispenser. I can't see a damn thing. Gasping for air, all I find is smoke. The temperature has easily risen from 60 to 90 in an instant. For a moment, I just lie there. It feels like someone has cracked a baseball bat across my throat. Weakly propping myself up, I tell myself to just stay calm and wait for the paramedics. Then, I remember those headlights barreling toward me...
I never got married, I never had kids, I never even left the country: I AM NOT GOING TO DIE HERE. Frantically, I pound my fist into the airbag and slide my hand down my stomach, trying to find the seat belt release button. Beads of sweat form across my forehead as I finally find the button and squeeze for dear life. Got it. I try to shift into Park but the gear shift won't budge.
Fuck it, I just need to get out of this box. Sans my glasses, I ram my shoulder into the door and am bombarded with cool wintry air. Leaving my keys in the ignition, I stumble into the street as cars go whizzing past. Run away from the sounds of traffic, James. I sprint into the Exxon as my car gushes buckets of fluid at an alarming rate.
Oh wait, actually before I run into the gas station, I leap back into the car and turn off my radio, 'cause I sure as hell am not gonna die with Rihanna's "S&M" blaring... not unless I do a jackknife out of my bedroom swing. Inappropriate.
I enter the gas station and the cashier has no idea that I've crashed right outside his door. I quickly fill him in and ask if I can use his phone to call 911. He replies, "This is a gas station." OK... what's the address here so I can tell the police? "Ummm... This is a gas station." Great, that's the only English phrase he knows. I can work with this. I grab a used receipt off the counter, take note of the address, whip my cell phone out, and dial 911. Five minutes later, as I'm calmly pacing around the store, I hear:
WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP!!!
HOLY SHIT. They sent a fire truck??!
Keep it down, it's not that serious!
Hesitantly, I go outside and claim the car. The ambulance driver asks me if I'm OK and if I wanna go to the hospital. Even though my neck is still on fire, I politely refuse, because the last thing I need right now is another hospital bill. I'll just walk it off. Seriously, it took me months to pay off last year's $600 ER visit after a weekend of Livin' la vida Lohan. Besides, there's no need to get my Mama's blood pressure up by being a Drama Queen. Once the cops have arrived on the scene, they instruct me to move my car, as it's leaking every fluid imaginable. Although the steering wheel is unbelievably tight, I manage to move Cesare to an open parking spot.
The officers kindly give me a ride back to work. As I sit in the manager's office, I call my mother and ask for a ride. Heidi, one of my supervisors, swings by to check up on me. As with everything in life, I smile and respond, "I'm fine." Once she leaves the room, it hits me. That all-too-familiar smell is emanating from my jacket; it's as if I've been doused in gasoline and lit on fire. I look down at my trembling hands and realize that I could burst into tears at any moment. I just wanna go home.
Back at the house, I take my mom's advice and check my body for any soreness. As my fingertips make their way down my neck and chest, I close my eyes and hear that terrible "BOOM!" *twitch* Luckily, there's no visible body damage.The same goes for Cesare. From the looks of it, his pristine body has remained untouched and according to our mechanic, should be fixed up in no time. Unfortunately, after a couple of days, the story changes. Although there's barely any body damage, the bottom of the car is shot to hell. And of all the rotten luck, that's where all the important stuff is (ie. Transmission, brake line, etc). TOTALED.
Dressed all in black, I'm ready to say my Goodbyes to my first car. Before my arrival, the mechanics have "taken the liberty" of emptying him out and sending him back to the manufacturer. Dammit. Well, in the short time that I had the car, we had some really good times: Shannon & Rob's wedding, Homecoming, Gettysburg's Apple Festival, among others.
CESARE the SOMNAMBULIST
September 2010 - December 2010
Live fast, Die young, Leave an Exquisite Corpse.
