I Am Stuck In The Snow
I’m writing this while sitting in my car stuck on 35-W South having fishtailed into the median. At least I’m not alone – 190 other cars have slid off the road in what is apparently going to be the worst storm since the Great Halloween Blizzard of 1991. I wasn’t here for that, but Minnesotans start talking about it as soon as the leaves drop.
We’re expecting 20 inches. As soon as I got on the highway I knew attempting to get to work was a bad idea, but the show must go on right? Damn my work ethic. At least my hair looks good – it’s doing that effortless-slightly-messy-don’t-you-wish-you-had-long-blonde-hair-like-me thing. AAA will be here somewhere between now (noon) and 1:45pm. There’s only so much time I can kill applying make-up. I combined Alba Terra Tints reddish “Blaze” with peachy Aveda “Pitaya” to create the perfect lipstick shade to compliment my post-weeping poofy eyes.
Crying? Oh yes, as soon as the front left end of my car hit the median. Because the night before last the back right of my car was destroyed being rear-ended at a stop sign by a possibly intoxicated woman in a BMW. I can’t say for sure she’d been drinking since she left, but from our brief conversation, my money’s on Chardonnay + Valium. She was having trouble reading my license plate, and when she couldn’t locate her insurance information she sat repeating, “I don’t understand what you want from me.” Then she left to “find” her insurance information, promising to call back within 10 minutes. I gave Beemer Bitch exactly 10 minutes then called the police (they can’t come to an accident unless there’s an injury or the other party is uncooperative; leaving counts as uncooperative). After 20 or so minutes she finally called back. She said it took so long because I had written my phone number wrong and that the last number is a 0 not a 6. Okay lady.
Just then the police arrived in the form of Officer Hot Dish, the only silver lining of the whole incident. Let us take a moment to admire the fine example of a man that is Officer Hot Dish. Broad of chest and square of jaw, 6’-2” with sandy hair and intelligent eyes. 30-something with a pleasant demeanor (which is much better than 20-something and cockily suffering from Young Male Syndrome). Basically exactly the public servant every girl imagines will answer her 911 call. I suspect the Minneapolis Police Department designed their handsome uniforms specifically for Officer Hot Dish and then gave them to the other guys too. Of course, I was bundled in a gigantic coat, ridiculous hat and sporting both glasses and braces. Nice.
As it turns out Drinking & Leaving is exactly the right thing to do in Minnesota as long as you call back later. Seriously. Officer Hot Dish couldn’t even file a police report because once she called back it meant we had exchanged information. Since I didn’t actually get to see any of her identification, he ran the plate number against her name, which matched. He also gave me the case number and the phone number of the 1st Precinct. And your number officer? Alas, I remembered I’m married.
Later, after arriving home and downing a couple of chardonnays myself, I decided to see if I could find out anything about Beemer Bitch on the great World Wide Web, hoping to assess the chances of her accepting Fault (this is a No Fault state, so good luck with the insurance claim if the other party denies fault, even in a clear cut rear-ending.) I won’t bore you with the details of my sleuthing, but I was able to find her former married name (can’t imagine why someone wouldn’t want to stay married to this woman), that she moved here from Virginia, and her Bar Examination date. That’s right. Beemer Bitch is a lawyer. Lucky me.
By the way, why is it that when I called AAA and input my member number, after that they never once ask me to repeat the number? How is it that AAA has managed to develop a telephone system unlike no other in the known universe? Every other business requires you to repeat your number at the beginning of the call and then with each new person you talk to until you want to jump through the phone and poke their eyes out with a pen. Yay for AAA. It almost makes up for the fact I’m still here. A random dude in a plow just pulled over and knocked on my window. He seemed surprised to see someone in the car and promised to come back and check on me later. I’m really not sure what I’m going to do once they arrive. I’m terrified of driving back home. It’s definitely shorter at this point to go onto work. But then I’ll have to stay at someone’s house tonight in town and won’t get back until tomorrow night after work. Which totally sucks. It’s Saturday which means I’ll miss Guest Room Night. The Fox and I have taken to sleeping in the guest room on the week-ends. We think it’s better for our backs to switch mattresses. And that way he can sleep while I have the run of upstairs to get ready for work and bang around in the kitchen (I know of no other way to operate in the kitchen).
Are you wondering why The Fox is not here rescuing me? As lovely as that sounds, we agree he will only end up in a snow drift himself and then we’ll have two wrecked cars. Did I mention it’s snowing an inch an hour and that tonight the temperature is going to drop to minus 8 F with a wind chill factor of minus 30? I might be bored and stuck in a car, but he’s been shoveling the driveway this entire time. He says he’s been unable to eat all day due to worrying. “Well, I had some beef jerky, but I worried while eating it.”
2:00 pm Breaking News: Tonight’s show has been cancelled. There’s no sign of plows, so once I’m back on the road, I doubt I’ll be able to make it far. The Fox thinks I should try to get to the Sheraton one mile away. He says he tried to drive around the block but just slid around.
The airport is closed. The busses are closed. I can’t believe I didn’t just call in and F You Job – no way am I driving.
2:20 pm: Breaking News: The AAA truck is stuck. They’re trying to get it out now. Once it’s free, I’m next on the list.
I am getting hungry. And I to have to pee.
Oh yeah. And I have cramps.