Andy Calls 911, Saves the Day (kinda)
I'm hanging out with Ruben this evening when we decide to stop by the L&V to see how the renovations are coming along, and ask when they're going to re-open. Walking around the corner from where we parked, I look up to see this blue Toyota Echo screaming down a side street and with tires squealing cornering onto Main St. hardly slowing down, blowing through the red light, and narrowly missing two cars. I reach down into my pocket to grab my cell phone when I hear the unmistakable BANG! of car-on-car collision and look up to see a red car pull over and the blue Echo scream another block or two down the street. Then it tore in front of oncoming traffic making a left turn into my old neighborhood where I grew up.
Not in MY TOWN shit head. I was fucking FURIOUS. I phone 911 and I'm so absolutely livid I'm shaking and can barely think of street names I normally know by heart, but I manage to get across that he turned southbound into the old historic district neighborhood, where I grew up.
The 911 dispatcher thanks me. Ruben and I go into the L&V and are talking to an acquaintance who is doing some of the remodeling. I'm steaming fucking mad stiffly pacing back and forth with my fists clenched until he and I decide to walk down the street to see if that bang we heard was a collision. Around the corner at the end of the block, a car's rear end is visibly smashed and their blinkers are on. We walk up to the passenger side and ask if everybody is ok. The driver and passenger are visibly shaken up, and the passenger says her head and neck are a little sore, but otherwise they're not hurt. A cop had already seen to them, but told them to wait there as he had to make an emergency run. I guess every cop in town was after this fucker.
The officer comes back, and Ruben and I introduce ourselves as eye witnesses. He is a perfect gentleman with the two lady victims, Ruben, and me. We all give written statements, and the officer reassures us they got the guy, and that he had valid insurance. The bastard was drunk off his ass and had hit two other cars along the way. The dumb fuck even had the balls to try to run from the cops in a goddamn Toyota Echo, and led them on a short chase before stopping.
The struck driver's husband arrives, and with enthusiastic handshakes he thanks us profusely for checking up on his wife, and for calling in the criminal to the police. Ruben and I walk back to my car, and I spend the next half hour chattering like a chipmunk still pissed the fuck off and worked up on adrenaline.
How cops keep their cool in situations even far more dire than this is beyond me. I wanted to beat the to a bloody pulp with my hockey stick for putting my people in harm's way.
I hope the cock sucker enjoyed the booze and the drive, because it's the last of either he's going to see for a long, long fucking time.
In other news, I spent saturday night at The B shooting the bands that were playing. To make a short story long, my flyers went over like gangbusters! Turns out I tapped a complete vacuum in the local photographic market. Nobody around here does performance photos, and one of the bands kept kissing my butt and giving me free merch. I'd feared that the already-broke garage bands would be annoyed by a guy with a camera hanging out trying to sell them his service, but the exact opposite was true. I got to hang out back stage with them, and even went to an after party.
I was just so freaking thrilled because for once I wasn't just some awkward choad acting like a dork trying to hang out where I didn't belong. I was accepted and embraced by the denizens of the local music scene, and I had a unique and valuable product to bring to the table. I belonged.
So now I have a new goal: to be published in Rolling Stone magazine. Doubt it'll happen, but hey, that's what's good about keeping your goals and dreams fluid. They flow with the go, if that makes sense.
I'll post some of the photos in an addendum after I work on them tomorrow.