Accidents Happen

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

Yknow that non-existent list of situations that can be classified as “nightmares”? Well I’m pretty sure I just encountered one. I got in a car accident. -sad face with tear-

Nokay I didn’t crash into another car, I hit someone’s fence with my big ol’ van. It was very scary.

Story time…
Here I was… driving. It was a late at night and I had to go pick up a tripod from Brandon’s house to film for contemporary media. I was going down the neighborhoodial street when I made a wrong turn. “WHOOPSIES” I said to myself, so I decided to 3 point turn my wait out of there. Then, to make a long story short, I backed up into someone’s fence.

IN MY DE”FENSE”, this fence was a pretty short fence, and my van is a pretty tall van. I couldn’t see over through the window, so bada boom (literally -sad face with tear-) I ran into a little pillar of cement blocks. As I was backing up, I was actually waiting to feel that little dip from the street to the drive/sidewalk. BUT I DIDN’T FEEL IT! Only the thud, but by then it was too late.

Oh and get this, of ALL THE HOUSES I HIT, I hit the house with the group of large samoan people standing outside of it. After the impact, I froze for a few loooong seconds, then pulled the car forward. “DID I HIT A CAR?! AAHHH” was my first thought. I opened the door and peaked out the window. I saw no car. I was hoping nothing had happened. I was hoping I would just be like “Oh, sorry about that!”. Then I’d just drive away. But I turned around 4 of the people were standing around the fence and my car.

“Sorry!..” I pitifully yelled.

-angry somoan look at me-

“What did you do? Are you drunk??” the largest one asked me.

“No, I’m notdrunk...” I answered the most undrunk way I could.

I turned my car off and walked outside. I prayed to God that the damage wasn’t horrible. I got to the back and looked at my van. I saw nothing. I looked at the fence and saw nothing. I looked around and the somoans were either angry looking my car, the fence, or my face. The largest guy there kept on talking about how dumb I was and how much it’ll cost him. I only spoke up to say “sorry” and “I’m really sorry”, although he would counter with a “I don’t care if you’re sorry, you hit my fence”.

“I could give you my phone number…”

“Oh we don’t need THAT” replied a somoan girl.

This scared me quite a bit. WHAT DID THEY WANT?! Were they gonna have me do manual labor?! Were they gonna beat me down?! WERE THEY GONNA BLOW UP MY CAR?! -sad face with tear-

“Alright I need your info. I need your license. Do you have a license?”

“Yeah-“

“Where is your license?”

“It’s in my car, I’ll go get it…

I ran and got it. I came back with respective items and started writing my name and license number down. I looked at the girl and she already held a notepad with all of my car information written down. I gave her my license and she copied down all my info.

“Are you high?”

“No, I’m not-“

“Are you faded?”

“No heh I’m not… faded.”

When I said that sentence, my blank face flashed a smile. It’s times like this when I hate myself for smiling. Despite the fact that I just crashed into this fence, and the fact that my mind was going crazy with emotions of distraght/fright/confusion/sadness, I just found that funny, the term “faded” and the fact that I had no idea what it meant. I hate it.

“What’s your number? House or cell number??”

“My cell phone number is 310…”

“You live in Cerritos and you have 310??”

She didn’t believe me. She had to get a cell phone and test the number. It worked when my phone was called, of course, so I was able to wipe a bead of sweat off my forehead. I just had a trillion other beads to deal with.

“…Who owns this house” I asked; I had to write down info for myself too of course.

“My brother” the girl responded.

“What’s his name?”

“George.”

I wrote down George. I was too scared to ask whether it was George or Jorge.

“What’s his last name?”

“Poe.”

After I got info on this George Poe, I asked where he was. She said “He’s here, he’s the big guy” she pointed her finger around. Of course, he HAD to be the BIG GUY…

I looked to the far end of the driveway and he was sitting down on a chair with his head resting on his hand. I walked up the spooky driveway (bear in mind that the only light there was the porch light, so all the faces of the other people were concealed in darkness) and approached the troubled George.

“Um, George? So I can pay for the damages…” Shouldn’t have said that. “I can get an estimate?”

“Alright well I didn’t do anything. I didn’t back up my car. I didn’t hit the fence.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s my f-…

“I can tell you this, whatever you pay I can match.”

I was so confused when he said that. DOES THAT MEAN I HAVE TO PAY DOUBLE?! But he continued:

“I can fix that up for around 500 bucks. You can get an estimate, and you’ll have to pay more, but I can fix it for 500. See they don’t make those kinds of blocks anymore. They’re old. But you can get an estimate, but I can do it cheaper.”

“…So maybe I can get an estimate on… Tuesday..?” I didn’t really know what I was talking about.

“No, whatever, come whenever, you got school and stuff.”

“Alright, uh… we’ll keep in touch then.” I slowly backed away. He nodded. I walked to my car and said “we’ll keep in touch” to the somoan girl as I passed her by. I started the engine. Drove to Brandon’s house. Picked up the tripod. And drove away. At that point, I don’t think I ever wanted a hug so badly.

So yeah that was a pretty freaky experience. It’s the first car crash I’ve ever been in where I was the driver. Thank God it wasn’t with another car. It’s times like the drive back home when I all of a sudden get religious. I start saying that it’s okay, God was probably just trying to say to me that I’m a nooby booby driver, and that I need to stop being so nooby booby. Verbatim.

Then I compiled a list of “If only”s:
IF ONLY…
-I hadn’t made that wrong turn
-Alex picked up his phone
-I pressed the brake a second sooner
-Those people weren’t outside of their house

I also thought about how I’d tell my parents about it, and honestly, there’s no real way to avoid what really happened. So I just told them at point blank, and they took it a lot better than I expected. It’s also moments like these where I love my parents, for not blowing their tops askew for no reason. WHOA this is off, I hate my uncontrollable smiles and I love my half-angry parents? Definitely off.

The ironic part is that the next film I’m gonna make for contemp media is about a car. The second ironic part is that two days ago, there was a poll for our senior class that asked who was the worst driver in the world.

Life works in horrible ways. -sad face with tear-