I have to say, I really enjoy blogging. Sometimes its really nice to be able to talk freely and unashamedly about nothing but yourself. Although I do try to be witty and to appeal to a non-me audience, I am aware that sometimes I lapse into periods of shameless self pity and dwell on details that are probably uninteresting to anyone but myself. A blog, after all, is necessarily a predominantly selfless act. A blog isn't started to discuss things that are happening to other people, but instead to reflect on the things that have a profound impact on us as individuals. I embrace my inner selfishness every time I write and, I have to admit, I really do look forward to each post. On days when I feel like I have nothing to write, I am disappointed and frequently click the "New Post" link anyway and stare at the blank white page. When I was a kid, I felt the same way about writing stories. I would sit in class, looking down at a blank white sheet of notebook paper, and feel an inexplicable compulsion to fill it with some kind of a story. Today, years and years later, I offer you no self deprecating monologue of the sufferings of a law student. Instead, I provide a (hopefully) amusing anecdote about one of the dumbest people I have heard of since the assistant prosecuting attorney with the 377 parking meter violations. (Although, to be sure, she is a pretty ridiculously stupid person.) My fifth grade self, who was generally engrossed in writing stories about secret words discoverable from under the couch in the living room, and of romances between a character remarkably like myself and a fictional idyll of a boy who was always named Adam, would approve much more of this story-telling function.
First of all, I need to lay a bit of a foundation. I guess to have a complete picture of who I am, you should know that my parents own a business. But my dad isn't your typical business-owner. He certainly doesn't go to work in a shirt and tie. If he did, it would get in the way. A tie, in my dad's case, would be more of an occupational hazard than anything else. Much like how, in the movie the Incredibles, there's that whole discussion of how capes on superheroes are dangerous--so too would a tie be in my dad's situation. Our store sells sporting goods--specifically, for hunting and fishing. And my dad happens to be one of the best archery technicians in the country. (Imagine what would happen if he drew back a bow and his tie got caught!) My grandparents started the business back in 1954, when they dug worms themselves and sold bait and tackle out of the back of their house. Since then, we have developed into a couple of different businesses, but today our biggest business is the sporting goods store. We still sell bait and tackle--and, in fact, we are one of the largest wholesalers of bloodworms on the east coast. So, basically, I am an heiress much like Paris Hilton. See the resemblance?
Anyway, back to my story. Last night, my parents got a call from the police that the alarm was going off at the store. My dad rushed in like a superhero to see what all the trouble was about. When he got there, he learned that around midnight last night a woman was driving downtown. As I'm sure you guessed, she is not a fine upstanding woman of strong moral fiber. No, instead she is the type who eschews sobriety and responsibility in general, in favor of a looser lifestyle. She, while out for a late nightcap, was speeding negligently down the street that our store is on, crossed two lanes of traffic, went over the median, crossed two more lanes of traffic and struck a car, going the opposite direction. The man driving the car was thrown headfirst across our parking lot, where he crashed into our chain link fence, tore it down, and landed in our boat yard where we have several stacks of jon boats. The force of the accident caused Mr. Innocent to slam into the boats, propelling two stacks of them back about 15 feet, where they crashed into the opposite side fence and spilled over. Before I go any further, I feel compelled to tell you that Mr. Innocent is fine (so fine, in fact, that he came into the store today to make sure that we had all the information on the woman who hit him so that we would also be able to successfully sue the bastard) and that he seems to have suffered no permanent damage. Still, the amount of damage that the woman did to the fence and the boats totals around $17,000.
Homegirl was worried, and probably rightfully so, after seeing the driver of the other car flying through the air and soaring into our boat yard. So she did what any non-thinking completely wasted person would do who feared for nothing more than herself: she drove off. She didn't make it very far, though. Before long, her car (which was pretty badly damaged in the accident) quit running. Then, someone hit her as her car suddenly stopped running in the middle of a very busy street. When the second car accident person tried to call the cops to report the accident, she dug her hole even deeper: she physically ran for it. I bet that was a sight worth seeing.
By the time the cops got there, homegirl was long gone. The second driver gave a report to the police, but she was nowhere to be found. You may ask, how do we know that Drunky McDrunkerson was the one who hit the first car and then was involved in the second accident when we don't physically have a person to connect to the first accident, and rightfully so. It's a reasonable question and one to which I have a very satisfactory answer. It is true that, after she left the scene and was involved in the second accident it would, under normal circumstances, be hard to establish a link between the first and second accidents. Certainly it is feasible that two accidents could occur within a short distance of each other in that part of town so late at night. Well, lucky for us, it just so happens that Drunky hit the first car with such force and in such a perfect, perfect place that, not only did she cause little to no damage to the poor man who was involved, but she also left a perfectly readable imprint of her license plate numbers on his car. Apparently Drunky also has a couple other felony charges and its looking pretty likely that she will be sitting on the inside looking out for awhile after all this goes down. Good job, Drunky, at least you made it easy for the police to find you after leaving the scene. So, as Jeff Foxworthy would say....here's your sign. We appreciate you laying a trail that was so blatantly obvious that even the cops could figure it out. Also, we appreciate you having insurance---it certainly makes things a lot less messy for us, and we have $17,000 in damaged boats.
Once again, my first year torts professor has inspired me--let's sue the bastard!
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