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A Little Lesson for your Thanksgiving Hangover...

Written by rhanley

With Thanksgiving rapidly approaching, doing work, at work, or not at work for that matter, is becoming increasingly difficult. I find myself doing a lot of spacing out. I have a bunch of things going on in life right now and it seems that instead of just being super motivated and getting everything done, I’ve been going thousand mile stare style through the computer screen. Daydreaming about such things as High School basketball, Pumpkin Pie, and my very good looking Lady Friend…

I think it’s the time change or the fact that it’s dark by 500pm or the cold or maybe a combination of all those things but in general I have just been very lazy lately. Does anyone else get this feeling at the beginning of winter? I mean, I go to the gym, I work basketball games, I haven’t missed any work, but still I feel lethargic and it’s frustrating. It’s like my mind is making me do these things, but there is no pep in my step, no summer zest… I could be getting old. I will be 26 in March. God that is tough to say, 26, what an old bastard I am. I know that 26 is not REALLY that old, but it kinda is to. There is no debating that you are not a kid anymore. But then I referred to this guy I was reffing with the other day as “a good kid,” and he is 27. I don’t really know what is up with that…

Wow this column is terrible so far… ok I’m going to skip the rest of the horrendous, non-sensical babble and get to the turkey and stuffing, portion of this column…

(Notice the Thanksgiving reference above)…

So for our discussion today, Karma will be the turkey and parallel parking will be the stuffing…

So about two weeks I’m with the GF, she was down visiting me, great time had by all, and we were coming back from somewhere, I can’t really recall where. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that in my neighborhood parallel parking is an Art form. Only through patience, practice, talent, and shear determination have I mastered getting my big sexy truck parked every night when I come home. Anyone who has to park on the street in this city knows what I’m talking about. Its dog eats dog, and I where come from Parking means rubbin’. You don’t buy a brand new Benz-O and park it on the street. You are absolutely kidding yourself if you think your going to survive a winter without your car getting beat up. I mean seriously, let’s be rational about this, there is not enough space for all the cars in the neighborhood, and no one wants to be the jerk that has to roll the dice on a thirty-five dollar ticket by parking in the No Parking zone, so people try to cram their cars and big sexy trucks into spaces they should not other park in.

Now me personally, I’m one of the best parallel parkers you are ever going to meet. I dazzle people with my ability. If there was a venue I would parallel park competitively. I’m being serious here, I’m damn good. But honestly, despite all his talent, even Gregg Jeffereries struck out once in a while… and with that in mind I start my story…

So its two weeks ago and I’m with the GF. And being the asshole that I am, as soon as we pull into my neighborhood I immediately start mouthing off about how good of parallel parker I am. So she’s a good sport and plays along and acts like (1) she believes me and (2) she actually cares, while all the while completely aware of the fact that I’m in performance mood and could possibly not have a clue what I’m talking about. So now I’m like a Peacock in the Hen coup driving around giving precise details of all the ins and outs associated with “Quality Parallel Parkers” and explaining how there just really aren’t that many out there…

So we find a spot. Not a huge spot but certainly not a small spot. And being the cocky SOB that I am a try to “One turn” my truck into the spot. In my haste I gently brush the car in front of me leaving a small black streak on the corner of the bumper. To be honest, you can barely even tell that there was contact on the car I hit and there is no evidence on my truck, because trucks are super Manly. Well, I don’t think anything of it. As I explained before little bumps and nicks like that happen all the time. There was no “damage” per say, so we get out of the truck and walk into my apartment.

Fast forward three days later…

I walk out of my apartment, with my very attractive GF in tow…

I get to my truck and what do I see…? A hand written note under the windshield wiper of my truck. I’m used to tickets and even those colorful flyers for the booty clubs, but a note, I immediately knew what it was about. So I pull the note off and read.

Upon completion of reading the note I’m feeling a few different emotions, shock, disbelief, outrage and humor…

Shock… I was shocked that some A-hole would actually have the nerve to (1) write a note, (2) write a note not asking me if I may have bumped his car, but telling me that I definitely did bump his car, and (3) have the gall to try to blackmail me into giving him money without calling the insurance company… Shock…

Disbelief… I was in utter disbelief that this guy would assume that of all the cars that drive and park on that street that my truck was the one that hit him. He claimed to have taken photographic evidence of both our bumpers and the position of my truck proving without a doubt that my truck had hit him. So basically he took a few pictures of his beat up, piece of shit 1995 Honda and a few more pictures of my MAN truck and thumb-tacked them on the wall next to each other, (definitely saw that on CSI: Miami)… Disbelief…

Outrage… I was outraged that not only was he blaming me for the accident, he was trying to blackmail me into paying him money without calling the insurance company. I think the note read something to the effect of “If you prefer I will handle this through my insurance company but we could also settle this in some other fashion.” Maybe he wanted sex. I’m not being blackmailed into sex either… Outrage…

Humor… I began to laugh when I realized what an F@#$ing idiot this kid was… Humor…

Ok so I know that I hit the kid, and I know that I was in the wrong. But he really didn’t know that and that is what bothers me about this. To just assume that I did it because my bumper is beat up and then try to blackmail me out of a couple hundred dollars, or sex. It’s just not right. If you’re going to park on the street you’re going to get bumped.

So what did I do…?

I called him, and of course he didn’t pick up. So I left a message that basically said that I didn’t do it and that he couldn’t proved that I did and if it blew his skirt up to go ahead and file a claim but I would just deny and fight it. I know that is not the “moral” thing to do. But (1) I don’t have the money to pay him and (2) F him for being so presumptuous…

My friends and here is the moral of the story… Karma, is a bitch!!! That next morning I woke up and and walked out to my MAN truck and my driver’s side mirror had been smashed… Whether it was God, or the Note Writing Douche we will never know. But what we do know is I got what I deserved…

The Rap…

The real moral of this story is this:

When you hit someone parallel parking, DRIVE AWAY…!!!!

This is a Life on the Redline…