It's okay to laugh. No, really

[cleolinda]

Okay, Sister Girl is home now, and I've gotten a bit more of the story:

Sister Girl is on her way back from a Panera catering delivery at the Sparks Building on Sixth Avenue; she has a green light and is proceeding forward as normal when suddenly Mr. Magoo just pulls across--either to or from 22nd Street, I forget which one. He does actually hit her driver's side door, and she doesn't see him coming at all, probably because she wasn't expecting someone to make a rogue left turn on a red light. She hits her head on the Leet Panera Skillz buttons, etc., as described previously. So she gets out, and she says she was determined not to cry, because she figured that if she started she'd never stop. The old man is apparently seventy-eight years old and on his way to the Kirkland Clinic because no one else can or will take him. I now know his real first name, and clearly, we're not going to use it here, but suffice it to say that it's as perfect an old man name as you've ever heard. So he starts trying to convince Sister Girl that they can just exchange insurance information and not get the police involved, because they might take his license away. My sister, who is sort of woozy from the HEAD TRAUMA, decides she's going to let Mom play bad cop, since the car's in Mom's name anyway. My mother is all of two blocks away, so she arrives and the old man gets to work trying to convince her, which--good luck with that, buddy. Eventually it comes out that he doesn't even have a license because, technically, it's expired, and then the words "Because if the police get involved, blame is going to get assigned. I mean, the damage is minimal--she can drive that car home" come out of his mouth. The old man turns around and kicks his Bumper of Destruction back into place. Mom looks back over at my sister's car and takes note of the engine hanging out.

My mother pulls out her work cell and says, "Hi, I'd like some officers down here." 

(She does benefits for pretty much everyone at the university except the professors and researchers. Which doesn't sound like a lot of people, until you realize that she's got all the coaches, security guards, and campus police [in whose jurisdiction they were just barely still in at this time], among others. I should clarify--I wasn't making a lot of sense when I wrote the previous entry, but the "we found him in New Orleans" guy was one of the stories my mother would come home and tell. He has nothing to do with the accident today. The old man today, as you can see, stopped and did not have to be chased.)

So then they call Panera, so after about half an hour they've got my sister's boss and three cops (or five to six, depending on whose account you believe, my sister's or my mother's. Strangely, it's my mother who insists there were more cops. Apparently the university police are much like the Men in Black of old, in that they move in mysterious ways and numbers) down there, and the old man is pretty squarely outnumbered. As a side note, my mother said that she had a hard time being too angry with him, because she kept thinking of her own father--my sainted grandfather--who died about five years ago. He never hit any twenty-year-old delivery drivers while making illegal left turns, but he once told his doctor that he could drive himself to the hospital from the doctor's office just fine, and the doctor said, "No, you can't, because you're having a heart attack." Bless.

Anyway. I don't want to sound overly materialistic here, but once I had heard from my sister's own mouth that she wasn't bleeding, maimed or dead, I started worrying about the damage to the car. Apparently the driver's door was crushed in, the front left side of the car was no longer there, and you could not, in fact, drive that car home. Her shift starts at five am, so it's not like she's going to be able to get a ride from anyone, and she's been (legitimately) sick a good bit lately, so I was afraid that Panera wasn't going to be real happy about her needing more time off work, either. Well, her boss says not to worry--per company policy, probably because they have the delivery drivers use their own cars, it's now a worker's comp issue and Panera will pay for all car repairs and any medical bills. Praised be the Jesus, saith I.

So now it's on to the hospital. I don't know what happened back at the scene with the old man after that, but I'm sure I'll hear updates tomorrow. In the emergency room, my sister is attended by... the woman who broke up my parents' marriage. I'm telling you, people, I can't make this shit up. To say that my parents' divorce was "acrimonious" doesn't really cover it, although to say "it involved felony insurance fraud charges" comes a little closer. So: awkward. Dr. Homewrecker says, somewhat abashed, "If you'd rather me step down and have someone else look at [Sister Girl]...," and my mother just says, "Look, it doesn't matter. Go for it." I haven't seen my father in about eight years--since my parents broke up, basically--but my sister's had dinner over there with him and Dr. Homewrecker a few times, so she at least knows the woman.

Sister Girl gets settled into a hospital room for a four-hour stay. ("Shit," she says later, "it's not like we're paying for it.") She tells me over takeout tonight that she watched The Cosby Show and had a CAT scan, the latter administered by a technician named Rocky Brazil. If he doesn't moonlight as a boxer or a rock star, I say that's a perfectly awesome name going to waste. My sister is inexplicably disappointed that she gets discharged before she gets to eat hospital food for dinner, which was when I started to worry that she really had sustained brain damage, but apparently she got off light with simple "head trauma," which is double less ungood than a concussion. Dr. Homewrecker prescribed some painkillers for her, and now she's home. She gets at least one day off work, maybe two, and probably a rental car for when she does go back. Other than the fact that her head's probably going to hurt like a motherfuck tomorrow, I'm pretty sure she got through this with the luck of the angels.

Comments

[narcissa-malfoy.livejournal.com]

I feel sorry for the old man, too.

[millebasia.livejournal.com]

Delurking to say I'm really glad that your sister's all right. And also...Rocky Brazil? Wouldn't you have loved to be the dude who hired him and the first impression of him was his name? I'd expect him to come to work in a glittery thong, personally.

Eesh.

[eruvadhril.livejournal.com]

Good to hear she's okay. *relieved*

[cleolinda.livejournal.com]

Well, I did too until he played the "you can drive that car home!" card.

[sigma7.livejournal.com]

That's what I love about nonfiction. Fiction has to make sense. The appearance of Dr. Homewrecker...oy.

And w00t for Panera. Finally something to compensate for all the raw hatred my f-list seems to have for it.

[cleolinda.livejournal.com]

Raw hatred what? They make a pretty good cinnamon crunch bagel, yo.

[alpheratz.livejournal.com]

Aww, Panera is sandwichy love! But actually, I do hate that they retire all the best sandwiches before I get around to trying them a second time.

I'm glad your sister's okay, Cleo. That story sounds pretty crazy.

[grnarmadillo.livejournal.com]

"In the emergency room, my sister is attended by... the woman who broke up my parents' marriage. I'm telling you, people, I can't make this shit up."

Since neither people nor property were damaged beyond the ability of Workman's Comp to fix, let me just say... with an everyday life like this, no wonder you became an author. ;)

[pygmymetal.livejournal.com]

a technician named Rocky Brazil. If he doesn't moonlight as a boxer or a rock star,

Does he moonlight as a stripper? :p

[evilsimon.livejournal.com]

Oh huzzah for lack of concussionage.

Also, Rocky Brazil? Awesome name.

[sigma7.livejournal.com]

The antipathy comes from former employees of, actually. Me, I'm rather fond of the broccoli cheese soup. And I'm just glad Sister Girl's feeling better after OMG old man bling bling.

(Re: icon -- I wonder what kind of graphic the art department could make to indicate agèd drivers about -- skull silhouette, fire background, man on walker...?)

[aymaera.livejournal.com]

The name Dr Homewrecker cracked me up every single time you write it =D

[headtotoe.livejournal.com]

Whew, first off all I'm glad Sister Girl is okay. I said a little prayer for her when I read your last entry. Good to know everything is fine. =)

Second off; GOD. I love old people and all but some of them should *not* under any circumstance be driving. My Dad was hit by a car while he was walking across the street to get his liscense renewed. The old man (old as in 82) couldn't see that my Dad had the right away to walk and boom, Daddy hit by car. Broke some his tailbone but other than that, he was shiny.

Good to know everything is paid for and stuff!

[linz-lou.livejournal.com]

I'm glad your sister is OK! Though, I'm sure she'll have a headache tomorrow. =(

[megmatthews20.livejournal.com]

I hope Sister Girl isn't paranoid about driving after this. It can be an unfortunate side-effect of these events.

Also, when I was hanging in the hospital with my mom they had awesome angel-food cake. Maybe your sister wanted to check out the competition.

cheers

[noseyroser.livejournal.com]

He never hit any twenty-year-old delivery drivers while making illegal left turns, but he once told his doctor that he could drive himself to the hospital from the doctor's office just fine, and the doctor said, "No, you can't, because you're having a heart attack." Bless.


HAHAHAHA!!!! OH, I wish I knew that Doctor. I so need him to straighten out my fucked up old people who insist on smoking whilst having oxygen flow up their nose.

[cabell.livejournal.com]

I have to say, I think Dr. Homewrecker is what really pushes it into comic novel territory. :p

[joemorf.livejournal.com]

I feel so guilty for laughing while reading this post - dammit!

~j

[delle.livejournal.com]

(Cleo's familiar with my recent family history) No, I don't feel sorry for the old man, NOT AT ALL. He could have killed Sister Girl.

Well, her boss says not to worry--per company policy, probably because they have the delivery drivers use their own cars, it's now a worker's comp issue and Panera will pay for all car repairs and any medical bills. Praised be the Jesus, saith I.

Oh, thank god. Because my husband - who works in insurance - said it's more than likely that Idiot!Old!Man doesn't carry insurance if he doesn't have a legal license and more than likely he doesn't have any assets to go after, unless you get a lien on his house and wait for him to die. Thank goodness the company will take care of her.

[elbales]

Ooh, Cleo, you always bring us the best violence.*

Hollacrap. I'm glad to hear your sister's going to be okay and that things are relatively under control. What rotten luck.

Your mom sounds like a real terror when dealing with those who have committed utterly lame acts of idiocy. Go, Mom. I wouldn't want to get on her bad side.


*Well, you did say it was okay to laugh...

[thegeneralerin.livejournal.com]

I know what you mean about "feeling materialistic"
My father was in an accident last January, some guy ran a red light and plowed into the passenger side of his car. Once we found out that he was in fact, only slightly damaged, my first thought was "shit. the car." and then slightly later, "shit. he's gonna be outta work for a while."

Its probably natural to worry about things that aren't *that* important once we find out the important things are alright.

[rockgeisha.livejournal.com]

I'm glad your sister's okay.

My younger sister hit a man on a bicycle in the same area. She was stopped at a red light on University, getting ready to turn right onto 19th. She was focused on traffic from the left. The man on the bike said that he knew she didn't see him (he even slapped the side of her Blazer to get her attention, which she didn't hear or acknowledge) but he went forward anyway. !!! Right when she turned right. He wasn't hurt and there was minimal damage to his bike but woe unto him when he got an attitude with our dad, who handles the insurance. Bike man to my mom: "I don't want to talk to that John again--he's mean."

The man actually called us before she got home, so she didn't know that we knew about the accident. She really didn't appreciate me running out in front of the Blazer and jumping on the hood when she pulled in the driveway.

[junebugged.livejournal.com]

yegads... you can't make that shit up. so glad to read that Sister Girl is okay!!

[andromeda-77.livejournal.com]

suddenly Mr. Magoo just pulls across...
*laughs hysterically again*
You have no idea how much I've needed the little laughs today.

[raspberry-wench.livejournal.com]

I'm really glad your sister's okay. That must have been nerve-wracking.

But srsly....Rocky Brazil? Definitely couldn't make that shit up either.