I’m baaack. I took a bit of a summer hiatus from, well, doing nothing. I promised myself I would begin writing my blog again in September, so here I am.
I had a wonderful September 1st, 2009 (NOT!)–One I shan’t soon forget. I was driving to my hair color appointment and saw a woman walking to her car right in front of the salon. So, feeling rather lucky to get “rock star parking”, as my husband Richard refers to good parking spots, I waited patiently for her to get into her car and pull out so I could have her spot.
Speaking of Richard, he and his friend and colleague, David, happened to be walking on the other side of the street, heading out for lunch. Richard’s office is about 5 minutes from our house and located in the middle of the business district in town. He and David spotted me and yelled my name. My window was open because it was such a gorgeous day so I yelled back and waved.
I had nothing better to do because the woman whose parking spot I was waiting for was sitting in her car for a few minutes talking on her cell phone with her door open on Central Avenue, which, as its name suggests, is a pretty busy street in the middle of town. I waited patiently for another minute or so before giving her a “friendly little toot on my horn” to let her know I was waiting (and so were probably a lot of other cars behind me) for her to back out.
I assumed she had heard me because she closed her car door and began to back out of her parking space. I watched as she backed out and realized, as she got closer and closer to me, that she seemed to not notice that I was there. I thought to myself, “Surely she’ll stop. She must have heard the ‘friendly little toot on my horn’”. (And, stop calling me Shirley! A nod to all of you “Airplane” fans out there.)
Apparently she didn’t. As she got closer and closer to me, I gave her a “not so friendly little toot on my horn”. As Richard, David, and I watched in disbelief, she only stopped backing out because she had backed into my car. Richard ran over and made sure I was ok and then went over to the woman who hit me who seemed to not understand what had just happened. He screamed, “You just hit my wife!” Then his voice got very sweet and he stayed and spoke with her for a few seconds. He came over to me and told me that the lady who hit me was one of his clients.
I said politely, “I don’t give a flying $#%& if she’s the Queen of England! That
$%&@# just hit my car!”
“There’s no need for language like that,” Richard said.
I said politely, “Who do you care about more, here? Your client, or me?”
“That’s not what I mean, “he said with a smile, clenching his teeth. “You don’t need to swear.”
“Oh,” I thought to myself. “He’s probably thinking that the commissions he’s made from her mutual fund paid for the car I was driving.”
That’s when the sobbing began. (I was the one sobbing, in case you were wondering. Richard has never sobbed a day in his life.) It was uncontrollable. I just wanted my hair colored! I just wanted to leave my car parked in my rightful parking space so I could walk into the salon and let my BFF hair stylist Jake make my hair whatever color he wanted to, as long as he got rid of my grays. But all I could do was cry.
And just when it seemed the whole situation couldn’t get any stranger, a man in a huge black SUV made a u-turn from the other side of the street right into the space I had been waiting for! I believe this was the moment when David, who was still watching the whole thing play out from across the street uttered, “It’s Armageddon!”
Richard instantly became part traffic cop, part bulldog. If he were a cartoon character, his chest would have puffed up and out. He marched over to the guy who had seized the opportunity to make an illegal u-turn into the parking space that had been empty for about ½ of a second, and yelled, “You can’t do that! Get out of here!” Luckily the guy did, but it was probably less because Richard, looking dapper as usual in his Brooks Brothers shirt, tie, and pants, and Cole Haan shoes, and more because he saw a “mini-me” police Smart car pull up behind me.
Meanwhile, Richard, who would have won “best dressed traffic cop” if there had been such an honor, went back into the middle of the street and began directing traffic again.
I didn’t know there was a “mini-me” police officer in a Smart car behind me. Thankfully, the woman who hit me hadn’t hit him. The blow would have crumpled that sardine-sized tin can of a car into an accordion.
All I wanted was my hair colored. I would have been perfectly happy getting the parking spot and walking into the salon. But, that was not to be. Apparently when the ”mini-me” police officer saw what happened he called for a Big Boy Police Officer in a real squad car. Sensing that this might take awhile, I asked Richard to go into the salon and tell Jake that I would be a few minutes late due to the recent unpleasantries, which he did.
The Big Boy Police Officer asked me to give him my license and registration and meet him and the woman who hit my car in the nearby grocery store parking lot so we wouldn’t be in the middle of the street blocking traffic any more than we already had. All I could think was that I was going to lose my “rock star parking” space.
I began to sob again. All I wanted was to park and get my hair colored. Didn’t everyone understand that? It’s a basic need some women have. It’s not asking too much, is it? I just wanted everyone to go away and let me get my hair dyed an unnatural, yet stunning, if I may say so, shade of red.
So, I followed the Big Boy Police Officer and Richard’s client who can’t drive worth $%&# into the grocery store parking lot. I waited while the police officer wrote out a report, and then showed me there was little to no damage done to my car. He kept asking me if I was ok because I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t want to tell him it was because I was going to be so late for my hair color appointment that Jake probably wouldn’t have time to add a few highlights.
I asked him if I was free to go. He told me I had always been free to go and that this wasn’t my fault. I knew that, but I guess I’ve watched too many cop shows. And then, I actually said to him between sobs, “I promise I won’t leave the country.” He just looked at me and then went back to talk to the perp.
I drove out of the grocery store parking lot and parked in a nearby underground parking garage. As I emerged from the stairwell and crossed the street on foot, a woman didn’t stop and almost hit me. I threw my hands up in disgust. More uncontrollable sobbing commenced.
As soon as I got to the other side of the street I saw Richard standing there waiting for me. I told him I was fine and just wanted to get my hair colored when he said, “Oh, look! Here comes your Mom!”
I thought he was kidding. But, alas, he wasn’t. She didn’t see what had happened, but she happened to be driving along Central Avenue. Can I tell you that although we have lived in the same town for about 20 years, she never ever sees me walking down the street? She never ever recognizes my car. But, for some reason on this fateful day, she saw me, pulled over and double parked on the busy street.
I figured the sooner I went over to talk to her the sooner I would avoid her causing an accident in the same spot where I had just been hit. Of course she could tell that I had been crying so I had to spill the whole thing. Did I mention that my father is a lawyer?
As quickly as my little mouth could talk, I told her I was fine and the car was fine and that I would call her as soon as I was finished at the salon. I didn’t want her car to be hit, too. Curiously, Richard had vanished.
I managed to walk into the salon, still sobbing. Everyone there knew what had happened and couldn’t have been nicer. The owner, Pam, got me some tea, although she said she wished she had something stronger to give me, and sat me down at the end of all of the stylist stations, probably so I could snivel in peace without disrupting the other clientele.
Jake came over and gave me a little neck massage and then made my hair a gorgeous shade of red.
The funny thing is that I was supposed to have gotten my hair colored a week earlier but I couldn’t because I had hit my head so hard on a door knob I thought I had a concussion. Seriously. I had bent over to pick up a dog toy and whacked my head on the blunt end of a sliding door handle so hard I saw stars. I saw Brad Pitt, Tommy Lee Jones, Liza Minnelli, and Shirley MacLaine several times; one for each of her past lives. Kidding, of course.
I had to cancel my appointment because I couldn’t let anyone near my head because it hurt so much I was afraid it would hurt too much to have it colored and shampooed. If I could only have been able to see into the future I would have known that a little pain on my head would have been nothing compared to the pain in the ass I had to deal with that day. Richard would probably use this paragraph to blame the dogs for the head injury that caused me to reschedule my appointment because he always finds ways to blame the dogs.
But, Richard had told me the Pontiac Grand Am needed gas, so I drove that car instead of my Suzuki SUV, and was planning to get gas in the Grand Am after my hair appointment. If I had been driving the Suzuki, I think (I hope!) the lady who hit me would have seen me and not ended up hitting my car. So, if you really think about it, the whole thing was Richard’s fault. And, I was actually planning to walk to my appointment before Richard told me the Grand Am needed gas, but that’s a mere technicality.
But all’s well that ends well. There’s no gray in my hair anymore and the color is fabu. Jake is a genius. I like changing my hair color because it’s fun – and reversible – and Jake always comes through with a cool color and cut for me. My next appointment is in about 5 weeks, in order to cover the gray before it peeks out again, but next time I’ll definitely walk.