"Physics 101"
or
"Action/Reaction"
or
"Next time you decide to have a few drinks don't get behind the fucking wheel, whore."
This post is going to be a lesson in common sense and accountability. It's also going to be a recount of the final hours of the previous Friday night's activities. Events, I should mention, were by all means ordinary and unexciting until some intoxicated bi-otch decided to make my night a little more lively. Normally, you'd a expect a good story to come from a line like that. Not this time.
A guy I know is only days away from heading out of Houston and starting a new life in a far away state. Somewhere up north where there are no cowboys and "y'all" probably isn't a word. Can't say I blame him. As a semi-final farewell, or just an excuse to try out a new bar, someone decided to hit up a little place downtown (midtown?) for a few drinks. The location was sketchy, at best, and the beer was expensive, but the night was pleasant and I got to catch up with some friends I haven't hung out with in a long time. I should mention that because of work I had to show up late and by myself. That is, I drove so I couldn't drink very much. Remember this. I knew that I had to drive home so I was responsible enough to limit my beer intake and prevent intoxication. This will be important later on.
As any good night goes, 2.a.m. quickly came about and we were forced to leave the bar. I decided to head home, others opted to grab some food. This is also important. Remember it. Now, when I say "head home" what I reallly mean is get into my car and roam the streets of downtown Houston looking for the entrance onto the highway. I'm convinced that, much like the streets of Boston during the Big Dig, the entrance is constantly changing. This is the only way I can explain my chronic inability to find the highway that I need at any given time. As expected, I followed the road that I thought would take me to the highway only to end up, basically, as far away from the highway as I could possibly get in a terrestial vehicle. I'm talented, that's all there is to it. And like most nights, I eventually found a road I knew, an intersection that was familiar, or a strip club that I've crossed many times, and the path to the road home was in my sights. Sort of. There was still a traffic light to get through. This is very important. If you're going to remember one thing, this is it. Quick: what were the other two things I told you to remember? You really should start paying attention. It's important.
Traffic light. As far as life goes, one of the more routine nuisances, but one which we obey because, when we don't, bad shit happens. That's foreshadowing. You catching on yet? The light was red at the intersection of San Jacinto and Wellesly when I approached it. So I stopped. Keyword: Stopped. Strangely enough, so did the black BMW behind me, albeit a little too close to me. But this is a city and that's to be expected. I was calm, I was content, I was only moments away from having a really shitty night.
That's when I heard the thud. Everyone knows this sound. It's the sound that causes you to look into your rearview mirror with the horrible feeling that something bad is about to happen. As I looked up into the reflection I saw the passengers in the car behind me lunge forward. Then came the second thud.
Thud.
That was the sound of my car lunging forward. I didn't like that sound.
The rest of this story is as you would expect it to be at a random intersection at 2:15 in the morning. Some girl in a late model Toyota failed to notice the red light and not one, but two, cars stopped at that light. As she stumbled her way out of her car she apologized profusely and said she would take care of everything and that I really shouldn't call the cops because she didn't want to go to jail. Did Imention that she had already mentioned that she had been drinking? Apparantly not all of us are responsible. Right. So, after she got through apologizing and promising us that she would pay for everything I informed her that, much to her chagrine, I had already called the cops and they were on their way to take care of everything. Oh, I'm sorry, that might mean you're going to jail tonight because, guess what, you fucked up and now you have to pay the consequences. What's that? You're sorry and you don't think the cops are necessary? Perhaps I didn't mention that you FUCKED UP and now you're going to pay for it. Now, I'm not a vindictive person, but I believe strongly in accountability and when you drive drunk you're going to eventually end up buying me a new bumper.
And lest you think I'm a total asshole, I'm not the one who threatened to beat the crap out of her. No, those were the girls behind me. Their BMW was in much worse shape than my Jetta and they were Pisssed (yes, that's with a capital "p"). Fortunately, they had enough sense not to act on it.
To put all your minds at ease, no one was injured and my car had, at worse, some cosmetic damages to the rear bumper that will be replaced by the drunken whore. The BMW was in bad shape and had to be towed (a moment of silence, please), along with Drunky McDrunster automobile. And what happened to Tipsy O'Drinksalot? She was given a ticket for what I image was reckless driving. Turns out the cops didnt' want to take her in because she wasn't drunk enough. By the time they could've administered the test she probably would have been sober enough to pass and, at that point, they couldn't give her a ticket. So, they decided to just stick her with the ticket up front. I would've prefered to see her in the back of the black and white but the cops know what they are doing so I trust they did what's best.
I feel a little better now. Trust me, this could have gone on forever but I wanted to write something you'd actually make it through and believe that I'm not a total a-hole.
Like most things in life there is a moral to this story. I wouldn't have bothered writing if there wasn't. Don't drink and drive. Yes, it's a universal truth and one that I wish more people would heed. But perhaps, more importantly, there's this one: if it's 2am and your friends decide that it would be a good idea for the bunch of you to head out and grab something greasy (and probably Mexican) to shove down your gullet, do it. It could save you a whole lot of trouble.
I told you that would be important.
When I finally take a photo of my bumber I'll post it here. Perhaps not as interesting a standard Rube photo, but an important lesson to all the inebriated fuckheads and Sloshy Sloshbergs out there.
"Action/Reaction"
or
"Next time you decide to have a few drinks don't get behind the fucking wheel, whore."
This post is going to be a lesson in common sense and accountability. It's also going to be a recount of the final hours of the previous Friday night's activities. Events, I should mention, were by all means ordinary and unexciting until some intoxicated bi-otch decided to make my night a little more lively. Normally, you'd a expect a good story to come from a line like that. Not this time.
A guy I know is only days away from heading out of Houston and starting a new life in a far away state. Somewhere up north where there are no cowboys and "y'all" probably isn't a word. Can't say I blame him. As a semi-final farewell, or just an excuse to try out a new bar, someone decided to hit up a little place downtown (midtown?) for a few drinks. The location was sketchy, at best, and the beer was expensive, but the night was pleasant and I got to catch up with some friends I haven't hung out with in a long time. I should mention that because of work I had to show up late and by myself. That is, I drove so I couldn't drink very much. Remember this. I knew that I had to drive home so I was responsible enough to limit my beer intake and prevent intoxication. This will be important later on.
As any good night goes, 2.a.m. quickly came about and we were forced to leave the bar. I decided to head home, others opted to grab some food. This is also important. Remember it. Now, when I say "head home" what I reallly mean is get into my car and roam the streets of downtown Houston looking for the entrance onto the highway. I'm convinced that, much like the streets of Boston during the Big Dig, the entrance is constantly changing. This is the only way I can explain my chronic inability to find the highway that I need at any given time. As expected, I followed the road that I thought would take me to the highway only to end up, basically, as far away from the highway as I could possibly get in a terrestial vehicle. I'm talented, that's all there is to it. And like most nights, I eventually found a road I knew, an intersection that was familiar, or a strip club that I've crossed many times, and the path to the road home was in my sights. Sort of. There was still a traffic light to get through. This is very important. If you're going to remember one thing, this is it. Quick: what were the other two things I told you to remember? You really should start paying attention. It's important.
Traffic light. As far as life goes, one of the more routine nuisances, but one which we obey because, when we don't, bad shit happens. That's foreshadowing. You catching on yet? The light was red at the intersection of San Jacinto and Wellesly when I approached it. So I stopped. Keyword: Stopped. Strangely enough, so did the black BMW behind me, albeit a little too close to me. But this is a city and that's to be expected. I was calm, I was content, I was only moments away from having a really shitty night.
That's when I heard the thud. Everyone knows this sound. It's the sound that causes you to look into your rearview mirror with the horrible feeling that something bad is about to happen. As I looked up into the reflection I saw the passengers in the car behind me lunge forward. Then came the second thud.
Thud.
That was the sound of my car lunging forward. I didn't like that sound.
The rest of this story is as you would expect it to be at a random intersection at 2:15 in the morning. Some girl in a late model Toyota failed to notice the red light and not one, but two, cars stopped at that light. As she stumbled her way out of her car she apologized profusely and said she would take care of everything and that I really shouldn't call the cops because she didn't want to go to jail. Did Imention that she had already mentioned that she had been drinking? Apparantly not all of us are responsible. Right. So, after she got through apologizing and promising us that she would pay for everything I informed her that, much to her chagrine, I had already called the cops and they were on their way to take care of everything. Oh, I'm sorry, that might mean you're going to jail tonight because, guess what, you fucked up and now you have to pay the consequences. What's that? You're sorry and you don't think the cops are necessary? Perhaps I didn't mention that you FUCKED UP and now you're going to pay for it. Now, I'm not a vindictive person, but I believe strongly in accountability and when you drive drunk you're going to eventually end up buying me a new bumper.
And lest you think I'm a total asshole, I'm not the one who threatened to beat the crap out of her. No, those were the girls behind me. Their BMW was in much worse shape than my Jetta and they were Pisssed (yes, that's with a capital "p"). Fortunately, they had enough sense not to act on it.
To put all your minds at ease, no one was injured and my car had, at worse, some cosmetic damages to the rear bumper that will be replaced by the drunken whore. The BMW was in bad shape and had to be towed (a moment of silence, please), along with Drunky McDrunster automobile. And what happened to Tipsy O'Drinksalot? She was given a ticket for what I image was reckless driving. Turns out the cops didnt' want to take her in because she wasn't drunk enough. By the time they could've administered the test she probably would have been sober enough to pass and, at that point, they couldn't give her a ticket. So, they decided to just stick her with the ticket up front. I would've prefered to see her in the back of the black and white but the cops know what they are doing so I trust they did what's best.
I feel a little better now. Trust me, this could have gone on forever but I wanted to write something you'd actually make it through and believe that I'm not a total a-hole.
Like most things in life there is a moral to this story. I wouldn't have bothered writing if there wasn't. Don't drink and drive. Yes, it's a universal truth and one that I wish more people would heed. But perhaps, more importantly, there's this one: if it's 2am and your friends decide that it would be a good idea for the bunch of you to head out and grab something greasy (and probably Mexican) to shove down your gullet, do it. It could save you a whole lot of trouble.
I told you that would be important.
When I finally take a photo of my bumber I'll post it here. Perhaps not as interesting a standard Rube photo, but an important lesson to all the inebriated fuckheads and Sloshy Sloshbergs out there.
posted by The Rube at Sunday, June 11, 2006
4 Comments:
This sounds like a near scrape with disaster for you, Rube. I just can't have my favorite blog people risking certain death like this.
Next time you're in the mood to party and have a good time, you can come to my house, northwest Houston. We'll play Parcheesi, eat Triscuits topped with EAZY CHEEZ in a can, maybe you can karaoke with my daughter's extensive Hilary Duff CD collection. AHHHHH, doesn't that sound like absolute fun?
By the way, being the talk radio nerd that I am, I've been listening intently to NASA updates on the shuttle launch next month. When are you going to blog something cool about that?
I just noticed that I'm offering an evening of cheesy games, cheesy snacks, and cheesy music. Hope you're lactose intolerant.
Ummm, class, please take out your imaginary red pens and draw in a big NOT between the words you're and lactose. Otherwise, the unwitting person this sentence was intended for will be engaging in a Cheese Fest, the likes of which he has never known, followed by episodic explosive diarrhea. That is all. You're dismissed.
I once got to be in the front of the line for a bump like that, due to stupidity not drunkenness, approaching the GW bridge. G*d-damn Jerseyites :-) Glad your car fared well, and just a little teary-eyed about the BMW...
Still a little interesting that the strip club is a landmark for you though...
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