Worst Christmas Ever

Christmas Day, my brother drove into a Rite Aid parking lot so that I can pop in to pick up some formula for my cousin's baby and as he started to maneuver the car around into a parking space, the SUV in the next space suddenly started to back up blindly until thud, it dented the rear backseat door of our car. The lady then honked as if we were at fault for being in the way and when we didn't move, she threw her hands up and stuck her head out of the window with a cigarette dangling from her lips and goes, "I didn't do that. That dent was already on your car."

We stared at her in disbelief and from then on, the argument basically went through "Uh, yeah, you hit us." ... "No, I didn't." ... "Yeah, you did." ... "No, you're lying." ... "No, there's a dent. Why the hell would we lie?" ... "I don't know, because you want your car to be fixed." ... "Yeah, because you HIT us."

So we got out of our car to call the cops to file an accident report.

Then crazy lady proceeded to drive forward over the parking lot bumper and turned her car around across the neighboring three empty parking spaces and tried to drive away.

So I called after her, "Hey, lady, I got your license plate number so go ahead, drive off. We'll just wait here for the cops."

Insane lady then made a loop around the parking lot and doubled back still screaming out the window, "I'm going to call the cops. I know the cops. You're lying!" Sped off. Returned. "Don't try to put this on me! You're lying!"

To which I shouted back, "What are you even doing right now? What are you doing? Are you on drugs or something?" She was pasty-faced with dried lips and I still couldn't comprehend what she thought driving in circles would solve.

Of course, she responded intelligently with, "What are you doing? What are you doing?"

"I'm calling the cops, thanks."

"Well, I'm calling the cops too. On my own."

"You go right ahead. Keep driving around in circles, too."

Then she drove off again to hover in the outer perimeters of the lot.

Meanwhile, I'm calling the cops to confirm the address when suddenly, a red car veered up next to us and a man with heavy-lidded eyes jumped out yelling, "What are you doing to my wife? My wife didn't do anything! She didn't do anything!"

Pointed at the dent. "Your wife hit us."

"She didn't do anything! Nothing! What are you trying to pull?"

Okay. Apparently, insane lady called her equally insane husband for back-up. Nice. Oh look, here goes insane lady driving up again to scream the equivalent of "Yeah!" and "That's right!" in accompaniment to her husband's eloquent monologue. Also, "I'm going to the hospital and I'm gonna say that you hurt my neck. That's what you get for making a big deal out of it."

I laughed out loud.

Well, we exchanged a few choice words and then I turned my back on them, ignoring them to talk to the operator and to call my cousin up to come pick up our gifts for her kids because we weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Then I called my other cousin to say that we might not be able to meet up for lunch after all.

So so far, I was pissed off and irritated, but that turned out to be nothing compared to how I felt when the cops actually got there. Because instead of relieving my concerns, the first thing one of the cops said after listening to the lady ramble on about how there wasn't any problem at all was "So why did you call us? Why did we even need to come?"

My brother's brows furrowed. "Uh, she hit our car. We called you. Can you come take a look at our car first?" As in, can you please get out of your car and come take a look, sir?

So blah. blah, blah. The cops announced, "Okay, we're going to file a no-fault report."

And I stared at them. "No fault? We got hit. They're at fault."

The insane husband was still blabbering in the background about how that was exactly what he told us, that there would be a no fault report filed and what would end up happening would be that both our insurances would be raised so it would be equally bad for both of us ... blah blah, basically trying to convince us that not filing an insurance claim would be the best route for both parties. Well, you sure seem familiar with these accident reports - had a lot of experience?

I ignored him and the cop explained, "But right now, she's saying you're the ones who hit the back of her car so it's a he said, she said thing."

"Wait, what if there were witnesses?"

Cop raised an eyebrow. "Well, where's your witness then?"

I pointed at the surveillance camera. "The video probably caught everything."

Cop then practically scoffed and said, "Well, I'm not going in there to get that video. If you want it, you go get it yourself."

It wasn't so much about what he was saying, but how he was saying it that rubbed me the wrong way. He literally could care less. It started to feel like we, the victims, were the ones who were at fault for calling the cops and wasting their precious time.

So my brother ran in, got the help of a really nice Rite Aid security guard, and then came jogging back out. "They have the video. It shows everything clearly."

The cops actually sat there deliberating so I added, "Would you take a look, please?"

They sighed and agreed and I muttered a "Thank you." But at that moment, I was relieved because surely, the video would help clear this whole mess.

What actually happened was that the relatively more professional cop looked at the video while the other cop who told us to get the video ourselves hung around in the store, not even taking a look and chatted with the insane husband, saying, "I don't know why they're so persistent about this when it's just property damage."

I wasn't in the store then, but my brother was and he later told me what happened and my response was pretty much *string of curse words* ... Seriously, what happened to good cops and justice and all that jazz? If someone hit their car, I'd bet my last dime they wouldn't be all zen about it ("Oh, go on, it's just property damage, please, dent my other side too so that I may achieve perfect symmetry. Golden ratio, behold.")

Brother muttered, "This makes me want to not pay taxes." 

In the end, we got a copy of the video which showed the SUV clearly backing up into us (store manager who took a look even blurted out, "She hit you! Junkie monkey?"). Insane lady, however, still maintained that we hit her or that we had moved the car back to lie in wait for her to hit us and continued cursing us out and taking pictures of our dented car. She had a stack of expired licenses or something for some reason and didn't even managed to produce a current license, saying she left it at home and still, the cops didn't fine her? Then she tried saying that we'd been harassing and threatening her until the cops came. To which finally, finally, the slightly more professional cop told her he wanted her to leave and go home. Junkie monkey, indeed.

Then I asked the cop if the report would still be filed no-fault and he said that they can't determine anything; it's the insurance company who does that. So fine, okay, guess the cops were never going to be a major help. As long as they got the information down and we got the video, we'll try to deal with everything else ourselves and hope the insurance claim pans out. It was just frustrating and aggravating. In a normal scenario, we could have just exchanged insurance information and went on with our lives. What are the odds that we'd get hit by a weirdo who can still keep up a delusional string of lies even after seeing the recording? Even insane husband gentled his tone later as he still tried to convince me that not filing an insurance claim would be better for both our insurance rates. Of course, I snubbed him by turning around to talk to my cousin instead of listening to him, but at least, he didn't continue cursing like a maniac.

But hey, Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And Happy New Year! May we all get off to a much better, happier year than the last.

And here's to hoping our neighborhood precinct get around to upgrading their standards for better cops.

Haha, I'll stop being a downer now. 

I will update Through Me Chapter 29 soon - tomorrow or sometime this week. I also wanted to get Chapter 30 down too and finish the story this winter break, but I have another of those pesky board exams to deal with and the break's already sadly nearing its end. It is an optional one on a subject I took a year ago, but I signed up for it since I think it'd be good to see how badly I do so that I can be properly scared into prepping hard for Step 1 haha. Sighs, I'll see. Happier posts coming soon!

Summer Heat & Violence

My dad's been at jury duty for the past week and he comes home every day now with stories and questions about certain English words he couldn't quite catch. Poor daddy. He said there was a case about domestic abuse and the man had hit a woman or something so words like "open hand", "closed hand" were being thrown around. Except he didn't know what "open fist" meant. He sat there, wondering and wondering if "fist" was a weird past tense form of "hit" or if it meant another attack type - like "open feet". So he turned to the people next to him and asked, pointing at his feet, "What does open feet mean?"

They laughed. And then pumped their fists in a gung ho, yes indeed way. "Open fist! Open fist!"

"Uh ... huh." He was still puzzled until he came home and I explained in Chinese, "They meant fist, as in a clenched hand, dad. Not feet."

"Ohhh!" Haha, he's so cute.

Other stories included all sorts of crazy violence. Crazy, as in things that could've easily been avoided had everyone maintained their tempers. For example, a simple car accident that could've been settled by insurance exchange turned into assault because one driver punched the other driver out after they called the cops. Really not smart.

Maybe it's the summer heat that has people simmering out of control.

Two summers ago, I had the misfortune to bump into one certain ... firecracker.

I was walking in a quiet neighborhood, peering around at the door numbers because I wasn't familiar with the area and needed to find an apartment building. I paid home visits during that summer to homebound senior citizens that receive Meals on Wheels in order to complete their assessment forms, check their medications, evaluate their support group, and see if they're feeling alright.

So just as I was heading down the block, holding my files and glancing up at the buildings, a guy coming toward me bumps into me.

Not just a simple oops, brush against you kinda thing - he ran into me, barreled against me so I stumbled half a step back and his folder scraped against my wrist - I think he was hoping to cut me or something.

I was mildly taken back and expected a mumbled apology, but when he just walked past me, I just shrugged it off as another rude New Yorker and continued my way.

Except a few seconds later, probably just when he realized that I wasn't going to turn around and pick a fight with him, I heard him snap, "You could've given me more room, selfish bitch!"

Uh ... I turned around and he was glaring at me, fists at his side. Now that I could see him more clearly, he was a scrawny guy - taller than me, sorta pasty, but seemed like a normal college kid around my age, maybe older. He had a black beanie hat on (in summer??) and he was holding a red folder.

All I could manage after blinking at him for a few seconds, "Excuse me?"

"You could've given me more room!"

I realized he was offended that I didn't make way for him to go past me so I got pissed off. Hell, you tried to walk into a girl, I didn't even ask for an apology, and now you're calling me names?

"Uh, why didn't you give me more room then?" I retorted.

I realized then that I should've ignored him. He obviously wanted a fight and he threw up his hands as he snarled, "There's a bicycle rack next to you! You want me to walk into the bike rack?!"

So then I thought okay, perhaps it was my fault - I wasn't really paying attention to the surroundings - I was looking for the door numbers so maybe I was hogging up a lot more space than I thought ... but the streets, by all means, were not crowded. There was a quiet restaurant where they had a sidewalk cafe and where the bike rack was located next to my left and we were the only two on the block. If he was coming toward me, could see me and the bicycle rack clearly, why did he choose to walk along the side of the bike rack and try to jostle me out of the way instead of walking to my right, which was next to the open road, where he could've easily swerved around me with plenty of room to spare?

Or, if I had really been holding a sumo stance in the center of the street and he honestly couldn't have gotten past me without touching me ... he could've just been normal and said "Excuse me." Or if he wanted to continue to be his nasty self, say "Excuse you." I would've moved, probably even offer an automatic "Sorry."

I just stared at him and I was so disgusted by this guy (was chivalry absolutely dead??) that I could feel my lips curling in revulsion.

He was pale and angry and was waiting for a response and I realized something was definitely wrong here and I was not about to get into a brawl with a potentially mental guy - even if he was around my size - I'm a girl, but more importantly, I'm a weakling girl and have no wish to be punched out by some random lunatic spoiling to pick on someone.

So what I did was ... yeahh, I didn't think things carefully, so basically, I looked him in the face, told him to "F*** off" and then backed up slowly and walked away, hoping he wouldn't leap and knife me in the back.

It was probably a stupid move and my mom told me I should've ran away instead of provoking nuts like that because if I had managed to tick him off enough, I probably would've ended up as a meat patty, but I don't think too carefully when you get me particularly, extremely angry ... besides, call me petty, but I didn't want it to seem like he got the last word.

Except he still kinda wanted things to end his way because even as I strolled away from him, he was still yelling and screaming at me, "Bitch! Stupid! Meanie! BLAHBLAHBLAH!"

Honestly? How old are you?

Fortunately, I think the only thing that saved me from getting tackled to the ground by him was the fact that several waiters from the restaurant came out to watch the spectacle since it's not everyday that some lunatic starts screaming in the middle of the street at a twig-sized girl.

Perhaps heat waves does things to people's brains. Perhaps he was once a regular student who loved Magic cards, WoW and yodeling and just had a bad day, absorbed too much sun and blew up.

Perhaps he realized that his black beanie hat didn't help him cool off much.

Or perhaps he was just a jackass.

So have a fun summer, guys, but more importantly, steer clear of pasty, angry people. They're not your friends and should it come to the point where you have to kick them, run like the wind.

Writing Status: 15 pages for the next chapter of TM, but I don't ... feel it's right so far. Something about it doesn't jive with me. Sorry, everybody - I'll try to polish it up and get it out soon.

Updates? Update & Phlegm Puker

Sorry, readers! I've scrapped most of what I had and had to rework the next chapter for Through Me because the original scene didn't jive with me. I can't get it out by tonight, but I'm aiming for tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

My Biochem exam kicked my ass. I was in catatonic shock afterward. It's not that I failed it, but it's something that I wished I could have done better on. Ever had moments when you go over the exam and change your answers - and the original answers always end up being the right ones? I ALWAYS do that and I despise myself for it. It gives me hurtburn.

The other day on the train, as I tried to review my notes and get a quick nap in, I was jolted from my blissful reverie of having found a seat during the busy morning hour by the passenger next to me. I was utterly revolted. The man sitting next to me had finished his breakfast of bread and coffee before proceeding to cough and hack the rest of the trip. He'd coughcoughcough and make this sound like he's going to throw up (everybody in the train car had turned around, alarmed, probably thinking "Oh shit. Please, please, please don't let some puker delay the train.") and then he'd cough up a wad of phlegm into his empty cup. It wasn't just once. He did it maybe four times throughout the ride, continuously hacking as if he's about to spew his food and then he'd just reach down, uncap his coffee cup and spit into it, continuously filling it with his phlegm.

Ugh. The worst thing about this is that he didn't even take his cup with him when he left the train. No. He left it underneath his seat, all germified. Despicable.

My skin crawled the rest of the day.