Thursday, February 26, 2009

Here In My Car, I Feel Safest of All

Here is a photo of some I-80 traffic on our roadtrip this Summer. I'm so photoless, I'm going through Coadster's vacation pics now.

We're almost at the weekend now and I am so happy. I want time to stay home and relax. I don't have any real plans, except for my friend Libby is coming from Chicago and we're planning on lunching together on Sunday. I got some shit to do, so I'm stealing from the old blog again. I wrote this in June of 2006. Read it and weep:

I have always been a freak magnet. It doesn't matter if I'm in a bar or walking down the street, you can guarantee that the only homeless, no teeth'd, crack head, psycho who ditched their meds, will come up to me and get all up in my grill. I used to think I had some kind of special sign around my neck that only they could see that said, "Lick me on the face and call me sucker." But today I think that sign fell off of my person and attached itself to the front of my car.

I had just dropped Coadster off at the baseball fields and was heading to the store to pick-up a few things, when I saw a woman standing in the middle of the street just ahead of me. At first, it looked like she was stupidly running in front of traffic, but then she turned around to face me and held up both thumbs. I stopped my car and she put her hands on my hood, then she kept her hands on my car and moved around to the passenger side window.

"Can you help me? I need help." I thought she might be sick or injured but I didn't have a cell phone. We were right by a gas station, so it seemed odd to me that she didn't go there. "I need a ride to my daughter's house over by Sheraton Street. I'm so hot and tired that I don't think I can go much further without fainting. Please. You're a lifesaver."

"You mean SheriDAN Street?" I asked.

"Yeah. Whatever. My daughter lives over by there and I need a ride. Please?" By that time, there was a line of cars behind me. If I had the girls, I would have said, no for sure. But I didn't have them. I used to hitchhike when I was younger, so I felt a little hypocritical not taking her. Although, I would never have been that aggressive about it myself.

"Um. Okay."

"Oh thank god. Shit. I'm on these new meds and they're fuc... I mean, messing with my system."

"Hmm, " I said. I didn't want to have to have a long, tiresome conversation about her meds, so I didn't ask her about them. I was just happy she was taking them.

"You know where Sheraton Street is? It's over by Summit. She don't live on Sheraton, though. My daughter lives on a street right off there."

"I know where Sheridan Street is."

"Hey, where you going? I don't go this way. I go a different way."

"This is faster than going to Court and then tracking back. It will still get us to Sheridan."

"Oh, this is Sheraton. You gotta take a left here."

"Left? Okay."

"Now we're back where we started. It should have been right over here. Drive around some more."

"You don't know where your daughter lives?"

"I would, if you'da gone the other way. Just keep driving around." I used to be a huge push-over when I was younger. It was that orphan thing where I thought I was a huge impostion to everyone and it was my job to help people and put up with all their shit. I continually felt like I had to make up for my being alive and breathing someone else's air. I'm finally old enough and have met too many people who were happy to take advantage of me, that I have gone the other way. Now, I push back once it's clear to me that the person I'm dealing with is shot full of entitlement issues.

"Actually, I'm not going to drive around. I was being nice to take you here, but I have things to do. I was going to Hy-Vee, and we were right in front of it, when you stopped my car..."

"So, what? Do you expect me just to walk around and look for the house by myself?"

"Yeah. If you don't know where your own daughter lives, how would I know?"

"Do you know where Summit Street is?" She said this slowly and loudly, like she thought I might be retarded.

"Yes. It's back the other way."

"Okay. Take me there and maybe I can find it that way."

"I'll take you to Summit Street, but that's it. I have things to do." I turned around and headed for Summit Street and two blocks away, she said,

"Stop! That's the street. I know it. It's here." I pulled over to the side of the road to let her out. She picked up her bright pink purse and said, "Thanks, so much. You're a lifesaver. God bless you. I'll be sure to pay it forward." And while I'm sure she'll be paying something, I doubt it will be forward, backward, or sideways. I have a feeling it will be straight to her dealer...Er, I mean, daughter.


Pamela said...

Im going to see Coraline in 3D. That's the highlight of my weekend.
I wish I could drink a lot and feel good. Btu I can't.

DJSassafrass said...

Get out the car crackhead! Yowsa!

Tara said...

You were brave and very courteous enough to give her a ride, but for her to turn around and become not only a backseat (er passenger seat) driver but then treat you like you've been her limousine driver all this time and be rude is just unreal. Ever wonder where she is now, if we can't already imagine?

Ananda girl said...

You have my undying sympathy. I too attract the strange, unwell and clearly incompetent. I liked your attitude about the meds... happy that she is taking them. Amen.

But I have to say that it is so much funnier when it happens to someone else. I enjoyed this story very much. Thanks!

sissy said...

Please don't do that again. You have officially paid your debt to the hitchhiking karma or whatever. So any way that was kind of scary.

laura b. said...

hee hee! I am imagining the crazy lady way of paying it forward. Geez, please don't let me ever get in the path of that...

Anonymous said...

There would be no way, no how that I would pick up some psycho especially after she had the nerve to lay her hands on my paint job. You must be a saint, good story.