Sorry, folks�no witty lyrics today. Not in the mood.
Know how I seem to bitch a lot about all the bad shit that happens to me?
If you�re married and ESPECIALLY if you�re a parent, there�s a phone call you never want to get. I�ve gotten it twice now.
Once was a little before 5:00 on October 30, 2002.
The other was last night a little after 5:00. JewelrySlut and Shmuppie were in a pretty bad car accident last night. Thankfully, they�re both fine. Car seats and seatbelts did their jobs. The car�s totally gone.
You don�t want to get that call.
Here�s how it went down:
On a typical morning, going to work, I get on I-80 at mile marker 26. I go east to 42 where I drop off Shmuppie. I then continue to 47 where I get off for work. We get on into wall to wall traffic. It runs until about mile 40 or 41. I then get back into it at 42 and it runs to 47. Nice, isn�t it? That�s 20+ miles of traffic.
On the way home, I get on at 47 and go back to 26. I get on into traffic and, if we�re lucky, it ends at about mile 33 or so, usually it goes to 28. Last night was bad. I�m trying to get no the highway, but the on ramp is jammed solid. That�s when the phone rang. They were at mile 37. I had 10 miles to go to get to them. It would have taken 30 minutes at least. IT was time for action.
I called 911 and told them what had happened. They told me people were on the way to the scene. I asked for an �escort� or something. They told me to stay in traffic and to just make my way there. Right�like that was going to happen.
I made it up the ramp and pulled into the right shoulder and took off in a cloud of dust. People were honking at me left and right. I jumped back into traffic and had to make a quick exit to actually get on 80. In NJ, we like to use access roads and other shit to make the ride less pleasant. I get on 80-proper and call JS again (note that�s the first time her name�s ever been abbreviated. I don�t feel like spelling it out. Then again, I just typed this all instead�go figure). They�re on the left shoulder. I pull across 5 lanes of traffic and take off up the left side. Usually, there are at least 2 cops sitting in a cutout in the road that�s just ahead. I�m hoping that I can see one of them and get them to lead me there. Give me a ticket, just do it when we get there. Of course�no cops.
I continue up the shoulder and people are pissed at me. I�m waiting for someone to fling their door open and try to kill me. That�s how we kick it NJ-style. Finally, up ahead a little bit I see a police car. It�s a Union County Sheriff car and they�re transporting a prisoner. I screech to a halt and roll down my passenger side window. I scream to them that I need to get to mile 37 because my wife and daughter were in an accident. They tell me they just heard about it and we�re off.
Cue the fucking Dukes of Hazzard music, because we�re fucking hauling ass up the shoulder. The cop�s going almost 70 and I�m right on his ass. There�s all kinds of debris and shit in the shoulder. How does all that scrap metal find its way to the side of the road? Of course, to everyone, I�m the asshole who�s following his blocking back along the highway. People are letting the cop through but trying to cut me off. I have a wall on my left and a line of cars to the right. It�s like I�m in some sort of surreal video game. After a while, the shoulder is narrower than a car. We�re one wheel in the shoulder and one in the left lane. I�m having to do some major swerving to stay on the cop�s ass. We make it close and see that they�re on the right side so he just flies across all 4 lanes. I�m right behind them. We get to the scene; I slam on the brakes, jump from the car and take off, sprinting down the side of the highway. I could only imagine what I looked like. I�ll guess that I looked like a crazy man. I get to JS and throw my arms around her. Shmuppie�s in the back seat.
�Hi Daddy! Look at all the trucks!�
She�s fine and dandy. They�re both safe.
From mile 47, dead stopped, to mile 37, it took about 15 minutes. It was insane.
Here�s what had happened. They�re stuck in traffic, maybe going like 5-10 mph. Now, in NJ, often what you see in this situation is that people don�t know how to drive. Every day, you see the following:
You�re sitting there and things open up a little bit. You go ahead maybe 50 feet. The guy behind you is not paying attention. He wakes up and floors it to get to you before 37 other cars jam into the open space. You often look up at your rearview mirror to see someone coming at you at a great rate of speed. You also get to see their eyes bug the hell out as they realize that you�re not moving. They slam on the brakes and swerve into another lane to get away from you. I�m not kidding folks; this happens several times a day to us. Well, this guy never took his foot off the gas. He was in like a Ford F250 or something�a big truck. He slammed the Focus and pushed them into the truck in front. The back is all fucked up and the front accordianed.
I walk towards the fat fuck who nearly killed my family and just stare at him. I take off my sun glasses and just stare.
�Did you see what�s in the back seat?�
�I have on e too�. His daughter was in their truck at the time. The fat fuck was A: not paying attention and 2: driving like that with his kid in the car. His excuse was that his truck had just been waxed and the pedals were slippery. Did he wax the pedals too? What the bloody fuck? I mean; what the fuck?
The state trooper shows up and they start their thing. I try to take Shmuppie to my car, but she wants no part of it. So, I go to my car and get on the phone with GEICO to start the claim. Half an hour later, we get to watch the Focus go off to its grave.
We then drove to the hospital. (This was a mistake. We should have had them go via ambulance). Nothing major seems wrong, but you never know. Well, we sat for 2 hours in the ER waiting room and were never seen. It�s now 8:15 and Shmuppie�s finally getting cranky (this is one good kid), we�re both hungry and JS is getting sore.
We drove home and had Advil and red wine for dinner.
Now it�s today and we�re playing the insurance game. We�ll know soon how much we�ll get for the car. We have to get a new car. We have to get a new car seat. We need to rent a car. We�re supposed to be in Raleigh tomorrow.
We�ve postponed that.
The real estate deal is still hinky.
I�m not happy and don�t know exactly why God hates me.
But, the car is replaceable. The plane tickets were changed.
My girls are OK.
That�s what matters. They�d be hard to replace.
I don�t want to live here anymore!