It's the Back-Seat-Driver's Side Door
My sister, Bethany, came home last night earlier than expected, at around 9:30 PM.
``I got in a wreck.'' she said, visibly upset.
Aaron (long-time friend and car guru) was over so we both went outside to have a look at the Toyota Camry. The passenger side door was crushed and would not open, but there was no (new) visible damage to the rest of the car.
Then Bethany proceeded to tell the same story she would retell countless times in the near future. The following account is based on her account and is not admissible in a court of law, however, it is more than enough for a made-for-tv movie or weblog.
She was taking Jeff, the guy she is ``spending a lot of time with / dating / seeing / being friends with,'' to the airport. He was on his way to help feed starving children in Ethiopia--- oh wait, that's not it... I remember now. He was on his way to a bachelor party in Las Vegas, which I can't blame him for, but, face it, makes him the antagonist of the story. So, for the sake of anonymity we'll call him ``Jeff.''
So, by all accounts, Jeff has a little problem with ``back seat driving.'' And when I say ``little,'' I mean chronic, obsessive, compulsive and make-you-want-to-gag-and-bag-him-and-throw-him-in-the-trunk-ive. This would not be so much of a problem if he were like a stunt-back-seat-driver or racing-back-seat-driver or even mediocre-back-seat-driver. But, he is a bad back seat driver.
Still, under most circumstances this would not be a major problem. Just ignore him, turn up the radio, whatever.
But there is one place where absolute concentration and meticulous attention to signage is required to drive: the Airport. One wrong turn and you'll end up nose-to-nose with a 747, or worse yet, a rental car line.
``Jeff, please tell me in advance when I need to change lanes or turn.''
``Ok, no problem. Oh! This is our exit!''
``The next one?''
``No, this right here, three lanes to the right and 10 feet behind us.''
...
``Jeff, I told you, I don't know my way around the airport. You have to tell me in advance or we are going to get in a wreck!''
``Ok, ok. Oh, turn here.''
``Left?''
``Right.''
``Right, right? or Right, correct?''
``Bethany, you don't need to ask three times. I'm sitting right here.''
``Ok, I'm turning right.''
``Oh, wait, where are we? No, turn left here.''
...
``Jeff, we are approaching a fork in the road. Which way should I go?''
``...''
``Jeff! Exit!? Which side!?''
``Oh, I like them sunny side. Thanks for asking.''
``Fine, I'm going straight.''
``I thought you already were.''
...
``Oh, wait, Bethany, we should have turned back there.''
``...''
``Ok, just turn left here.''
``Jeff, I don't think I can turn here, there are no arrows.''
``Yeah, yeah you can. I am absolutely certain of it. In fact, I would stake my very life on it.''
``Ok, I'm turning... Wait, there are headlights on both sides of the median.''
``No, no, keep going.''
``Jeff, I can't! I'm turning around!''
``Uh oh. Oooh %#*$''
*crunch*
``JEFF!!!''
``My bad. That was my bad.''
So, as Bethany tried to turn one left into three lefts, she was hit by oncoming traffic. Jeff's door was crushed by the front bumper of an older vehicle. Fortunately the driver of the other vehicle was a mechanic and not much damage was done to his car, which was not in good shape to begin with, him being a mechanic. He did not call the police or take insurance information. The valiant gentlemen simply said, ``Nah, don't worry about it, there's not much damage to my car, but, looking at your door, you're screwed!'' And with that, he was gone.
Now, far be it from me to go around asserting what God's will is. But, if you are trying to control a situation that is beyond your control and you end up with a car in your lap, and the only damage is to pride and pocket-book, I think that's a message from the Almighty.
All in all, everything ended up ok. Jeff made it to his flight on time. Bethany went to see Spiderman 2 with Cody, Brandy, Aaron, and her big bro. And I got offered that writing gig with Letterman.
(-=
``I got in a wreck.'' she said, visibly upset.
Aaron (long-time friend and car guru) was over so we both went outside to have a look at the Toyota Camry. The passenger side door was crushed and would not open, but there was no (new) visible damage to the rest of the car.
Then Bethany proceeded to tell the same story she would retell countless times in the near future. The following account is based on her account and is not admissible in a court of law, however, it is more than enough for a made-for-tv movie or weblog.
She was taking Jeff, the guy she is ``spending a lot of time with / dating / seeing / being friends with,'' to the airport. He was on his way to help feed starving children in Ethiopia--- oh wait, that's not it... I remember now. He was on his way to a bachelor party in Las Vegas, which I can't blame him for, but, face it, makes him the antagonist of the story. So, for the sake of anonymity we'll call him ``Jeff.''
So, by all accounts, Jeff has a little problem with ``back seat driving.'' And when I say ``little,'' I mean chronic, obsessive, compulsive and make-you-want-to-gag-and-bag-him-and-throw-him-in-the-trunk-ive. This would not be so much of a problem if he were like a stunt-back-seat-driver or racing-back-seat-driver or even mediocre-back-seat-driver. But, he is a bad back seat driver.
Still, under most circumstances this would not be a major problem. Just ignore him, turn up the radio, whatever.
But there is one place where absolute concentration and meticulous attention to signage is required to drive: the Airport. One wrong turn and you'll end up nose-to-nose with a 747, or worse yet, a rental car line.
``Jeff, please tell me in advance when I need to change lanes or turn.''
``Ok, no problem. Oh! This is our exit!''
``The next one?''
``No, this right here, three lanes to the right and 10 feet behind us.''
...
``Jeff, I told you, I don't know my way around the airport. You have to tell me in advance or we are going to get in a wreck!''
``Ok, ok. Oh, turn here.''
``Left?''
``Right.''
``Right, right? or Right, correct?''
``Bethany, you don't need to ask three times. I'm sitting right here.''
``Ok, I'm turning right.''
``Oh, wait, where are we? No, turn left here.''
...
``Jeff, we are approaching a fork in the road. Which way should I go?''
``...''
``Jeff! Exit!? Which side!?''
``Oh, I like them sunny side. Thanks for asking.''
``Fine, I'm going straight.''
``I thought you already were.''
...
``Oh, wait, Bethany, we should have turned back there.''
``...''
``Ok, just turn left here.''
``Jeff, I don't think I can turn here, there are no arrows.''
``Yeah, yeah you can. I am absolutely certain of it. In fact, I would stake my very life on it.''
``Ok, I'm turning... Wait, there are headlights on both sides of the median.''
``No, no, keep going.''
``Jeff, I can't! I'm turning around!''
``Uh oh. Oooh %#*$''
*crunch*
``JEFF!!!''
``My bad. That was my bad.''
So, as Bethany tried to turn one left into three lefts, she was hit by oncoming traffic. Jeff's door was crushed by the front bumper of an older vehicle. Fortunately the driver of the other vehicle was a mechanic and not much damage was done to his car, which was not in good shape to begin with, him being a mechanic. He did not call the police or take insurance information. The valiant gentlemen simply said, ``Nah, don't worry about it, there's not much damage to my car, but, looking at your door, you're screwed!'' And with that, he was gone.
Now, far be it from me to go around asserting what God's will is. But, if you are trying to control a situation that is beyond your control and you end up with a car in your lap, and the only damage is to pride and pocket-book, I think that's a message from the Almighty.
All in all, everything ended up ok. Jeff made it to his flight on time. Bethany went to see Spiderman 2 with Cody, Brandy, Aaron, and her big bro. And I got offered that writing gig with Letterman.
(-=
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