Maid of Honor

The Car Wreck

I was in an accident. On my way home from volunteering at the local animal shelter, I turned my left blinker on, following other cars through the green arrow when suddenly there was a huge impact. I couldn't see properly, and my face hurt. I kept blinking trying to understand what was going on. There was a big white balloon on my steering wheel. I poked it, and looked up to see the lights of cross traffic pouring in at me. I started to panic, taking huge hysteric breaths that are the precursor to my full blown anxiety attacks. I realized I couldn't see and started looking for my glasses, when white smoke started pouring out of my dash. Nothing calms you down like imminent smoke inhalation. I fumbled the door and it would only open a crack. I hesitated before shoving and forcing it open, figuring a little more damage couldn't hurt it much. There was a crunch as it swung open all the way.

The collision had pushed my car almost to the corner of the intersection and I stumbled toward it and sat down, staring out into traffic, dimly looking across to where my car was smashed. A car was inching past my wrecked Yaris in a right turn and a carful of blurry people asked over and over if I was okay. Still in shock, shaking, I just nodded at them until they kept driving.

 A man came around the corner and leaned over me. His features resolved into a slim fortyish man with a trim red goatee. "Are you okay?" Nod. "What's your name?" I opened my mouth to answer and my jaw was shaking so badly that I shut it again and tried to collect myself before I croaked my name at him. He told me his and sat down with me. "What day is it?" "The... Eighth? I think it's the eighth." "Close enough. You dizzy at all?" Head shake. He continued to ask me questions while I stared at my smoking car. When a fire truck pulled up and blocked off the wreck he said he was gonna take off. I managed to focus my eyes and thank him for sitting with me, and realized his name had made no impression, which I felt momentarily guilty about.

Firemen poured out of the truck, and they blocked off the road. I saw the other driver for the first time. He was an older man, a handicapped sticker hanging from his rearview mirror. He had a bag of food that he was casually munching. More people came up and asked if I was okay, if I was hurt. I said no, and asked for help finding my glasses. They brought a flashlight over and helped me look. I found them unbroken much to my relief. I called Taylor, trying to keep my voice steady, "I was just in a car crash." "Do you need me to come get you?" "No, you have class, you're fine- oh. Except I guess I don't know how I'm getting home." "So I'm coming to get you." "Yeah, sorry, thank you."

The fireman who helped me look for my glasses said I should start taking anything I needed  out of the car. I thought on what was in my car and grabbed my old bag, and shoved important papers in. I looked up at the helpful fireman and said, "This is gonna look really weird." He said it was fine. I pulled my cutlass from the trunk and put it on the roof. "Cool! Why...?" "It was a gift. And a friend had a scavenger hunt at one point and needed a picture of a sword and I just keep forgetting to take it out." I kept pulling stuff out and he sidled closer to my sword before asking he could see it. So a couple firemen came over and looked at my cutlass.

The cops had arrived and started taking my information. I saw the other driver speaking to the second cop and heard him mumble something to which the cop said, "That would've meant you had a red light. Is that what happened?" And he quickly waved his hands and said no, no.

Firemen came up and offered me a coat because I was shaking so hard and I said no thank you, I'm not cold, I'm just shaking. They nodded. They asked if I was coming home from work, and I said no, I was just volunteering at the animal shelter. The other driver started getting much stiffer responses and treatment. I asked someone if actually, on second though, could I have a wrap for my wrist, because it was starting to hurt. Moments later they'd taped on a cold pack.

The firemen began to disperse and told me they hoped my night would improve. I went and stood on the curb, and the man who hit me came and stood nearby. He was still casually munching some indeterminate food. I got a frantic text from my mom telling me to call her and wondered about her magical ability to know when I'm in danger.

The man said, "Well that sucked." I didn't trust myself to look at him without screaming at him for hitting me. I was too much in shock to be that mad yet but I felt a dull outrage that he was claiming his light had been green. He threw his food into the bushes. (I tell a lie, it's Arizona, he threw it into the sand where a few cacti were slouching, there were no bushes present).

I called up my mom and reassured her I was okay. It would've been more convincing if I didn't sound on the verge of tears. I overheard the cop ask my assailant if he had a ride coming and the man didn't have a phone. I told my mom I had to go and wordlessly handed him mine. His fingers were gnarled and crooked, some looked permanently broken and I wondered if that's why his car had a handicapped tag.

A tow truck had arrived and I solemnly watched them start to hook a winch on the dilapidated front end of my brave little car. At which point my car began to scream. And by scream I mean honk. And by honk I mean shriek because it is so much louder when there is no hood to contain it. The tow truck man and one of the officers hurriedly looked for tools to cut the horn. I thought, this is the swansong of my car, the final shout of defiance it would have in this world. They cut the cord, and it fell silent.

Someone said hey off along the sidewalk but my eardrums felt burst and I didn't notice until a second louder hey followed. I turned and Taylor engulfed me in a hug. We stood there for a bit, just savoring the fact that I was alive and mostly unharmed and my composure started melting away. We separated and watched as they began to drag my car up the tow ramp. The passenger wheel bowed outward and didn't turn at all, making it look like a sad, melty cartoon version of a car who's too exhausted to continue.

The cop said I was free to go, so we left. Taylor told me she'd called my mom, and her mom. Once she collected me she called both moms again, saying I was fine, just bruised, but fine. A joke about my airbag not exploding went over well with her mom, but made mine cry. She apologized profusely.

I'm ridiculously lucky that I wasn't more injured, but because the man is claiming he had a green light as well, it's tied up with insurance at the moment, and I'm set up with a rental car.

Interrogated

I had an interaction that upset me last night. A middle aged black man came in and started interrogating me.

Man: (Walks in) Oh, are these religious oils?
Me: Uh, nope. Do they sell anointing oils anywhere?
Man: (Gets excited) You know what anointing oils are?
Me: (Shrug) They’ve turned up in stuff I’ve read
Man: Are you spiritual?
Me: (Shrug) 
Man: Do you believe in God?
Me: Regardless of what I think, I wouldn’t discuss it in my workplace. 
Man: Oh really? Why not?
Me: The owners of the shop are religious and don’t bring it into work. I respect that and don’t either. 
Man: What religion are they?
Me: They’re Mormon. 
Man: (Slyly) And they don’t bring it into work at all?
Me: No, you just have to look at their hiring choices to know that. 
Man: How so?
Me: (Pause) Well, I’m a lesbian, and they don’t agree with that religiously. 
Man: You’re a lesbian?
Me: (Already regretting giving him more of an in) Yes
Man: When did you become a lesbian?
Me: Excuse me?
Man: You didn’t choose, you were just born like that?
Me: Yes
Man: If you could choose, would you be heterosexual?
Me: No, I am the way I am, I like myself. It’d be nice not to be discriminated against, though
Man: Do you think you’ve been discriminated against?
Me: …Obviously, that’s why I said that
Man: How so? 
Me: Well for starters I’ve had people harass me and my girlfriend on the street.
Man: How do your parents feel? 
Me: (Shrug) My parents love me. It didn’t need to be a discussion between us. Some of my friends got kicked out though 
Man: Can you understand the shame that would make their parents abandon them?
Me: No, not at all. Most major religions are about love and acceptance. I don’t understand why people who believe in those things would choose not to love their children. 
Man: What about transgender? Do you feel them altering their bodies is an affront to God?
Me: I’m not discussing religion. I have transgender friends and I feel like if your own body is alienating you and feels wrong you’re well within your rights to change it. 
Man: Did you hear about the suicide of that transgender person in Washington?
Me: No, but it’s very common in that bracket of people. When everyone is set to make their lives miserable it’s not surprising. 
Man: Do you feel like the gender you were assigned? Many lesbians switch genders so they’re straight
Me: I feel gender neutral, but since I’m in this body already I see no reason to try to change myself
Man: How do you feel about business owners refusing service to gay people?
Me: That’s discrimination. 
Man: So you believe in the separation of church and state 
Me: Absolutely
Man: Do you think gays should get married?
Me: There’s absolutely no reason not to allow them to marry other than religious discrimination. It’s like the laws they tried to pass saying business owners could refuse service to homosexuals. It’s basically the Jim Crowe laws aimed at gay people.

That’s an abbreviation of the interview. He was in the shop for about half an hour. He wasn’t pretending to shop, he was just harassing me. I wanted to shake him and ask if he could choose not to be black, would he? I saw him walk into the store across the street and I looked for him after work because I’m not allowed to scream at people on shift but I would badly have liked to. No luck.

Can't Stand My Home Life

I pretty much get nauseated the second I walk in my door at home now from stress. We want to leave. The roommates won't communicate with us about what the hell they want to do, whether it's roommates or proving they can afford this rental by themselves. In the meantime, Taylor and I are apartment hunting and seeking tenants to replace us on the lease. 

We're in this horrible limbo though where we can't really move forward with anything until we find replacements or they decide to do it on their own. So every time I come home it's like a lead weight drops on me and I want to puke.

Last night Taylor asked if I wanted to go camping. We took her truck out into the desert, found a good secluded spot and made a nest in the bed of her truck. It was lovely. The air was nice and cool, and even though I couldn't sleep well because we couldn't fully stretch and we needed more padding, I had the most vivid dreams. I heard coyotes right around us, and quail, morning birds, and dogs and chickens, and crickets chirping all night long. We fell asleep looking at constellations and woke up to the sun rising and it was great. 

Now I'm back in this super tense unhappy home where we pretend the other couple is invisible and they call their dog away from socializing with us, and I just want to run away. Upsides to the day though, even though I feel sick, a friend got me Cerberus. He's sitting on my desk hunting up some new tenants so we can get the hell out of here. (Get it?)

Gluten Free

Working at the Oil and Vinegar shop is largely pretty cool. I get enthusiastic about things I can't cook, and fill up bottles for people who can. There have however been a few gems in customer interactions.

The first was a woman who came in and refused to touch any of our samples. The way we have it set up there's a large round table with all the flavors in large sample cups. You take a toothpick, stick it in some bread, and taste that way. She insisted that our samples had been out all day and were unsanitary. She clearly wanted to taste things however. I asked if she'd like me to fill a smaller sample cup for her. We have them handy if anyone is gluten intolerant, or we want to show a mix of things. She agreed and as soon as I handed her the cup she began dipping her fingers into the oil and licking it off. I had watched her open the door, touch her purse, and bottles, and her clothing, before licking her hands. I repressed the urge to ask if she really felt that was more sanitary than trying the samples I'd put up less than an hour earlier under a plexiglass dome. She then complained that she had oil on her hands and I told her that yes, most people sipped it from the cup. She looked affronted and demanded I get fresh bread so she could try things without soiling her fingers.

A gentleman in his fifties came in and told us how he'd never got the hang of eating spaghetti. He was delighted to inform us that when cooking it at home he had finally, FINALLY worked out a way to eat spaghetti the way he wanted by breaking the noodles into fourths before cooking them. My coworker and I brainstormed how he could have been so inept at eating pasta. Did he never learn the spoon trick? Did he not twirl the noodles? Had he ever tried penne? Did he realize through the long frustrating years that it was possible to cut cooked noodles? We may never know.

The last person was a much younger girl. She was possibly in her twenties, and was loudly and enthusiastically wrong about almost everything in the store. She insisted the pesto genovese we had tasted like parmesan cheese. I told her that parmesan is a major component in pesto and she scoffed and said not the kind she bought. She then began to sample the oils and vinegars. She'd eaten three or four bread dipped samples before she asked me if they were gluten-free. I stared at her, and the bread, and then back to her, "I mean, yes, but the bread's not." She just blinked at me until I repeated that no, there was no gluten in olive oil.

The Car Prank

One summer I was out cruising with Isaac and our friend Kate. We decided to stop by the grocery store for some energy drinks. As we exited Isaac's car we saw a lovely sports car parked next to us. The windows were all rolled down, keys in the ignition and unlocked. We were appalled. Yes it was summer, and hot out, but to leave such a car unprotected- appalling. It didn't matter to us that we lived in a tiny town with so little crime.

Kate said, "We should leave a note." We all agreed but couldn't think of what to write. Finally Isaac said, "I sat in your car. It was nice." We wrote it on a scrap of lined paper and left it on his seat, then went into the store.

As we were walking out, a man came out right behind us. It was instantly clear it was his sports car. We deadpanned, getting into Isaac's car without looking over. He looked down at his seat, then looked up and around wildly, clearly livid. We kept straight faces as we drove away and he crumpled the paper in his angry fist, fuming at the world.

The Move

As many of you know I just relocated to Arizona. My parents were lovely, and helped by driving the truck packed full of all my stuff, while Taylor and I blazed the trail in my little Yaris with Leeloo roaming the car with us. Taylor wasn't too keen on the manual transmission, but she only stalled twice on the whole drive. The timing worked out beautifully so that on our drive down from Bellingham, WA we could go halfway and stop in Sacramento, CA for my cousin Jon's wedding. The drive down was pretty standard with the high point of Taylor getting really excited about what she thought were baby cows, but turned out to be goats.

We scheduled it so we had one day to socialize in Cali, and then the next day the wedding took place. Taylor and I ended up with my sister and my one year old nephew Max driving downtown. For reasons known only to his infant mind, Max was the least happy about being in his car-seat. Moments after my sister set him in it he began to wail. She sat in the backseat while Taylor drove and I rode shotgun. Her best efforts to keep him quiet met with resounding failure, and about when I thought my eardrums were done in, he quieted. Taylor and I probably wouldn't have looked back if my sister hadn't said, "We're just going for a drive," in a really odd voice. We both glanced back and burst out laughing. She didn't think it was safe to take him from the car-seat, so she'd unbuckled and was crouched over his seat breastfeeding.

The wedding was lovely, and I saw a tiny frog, and regardless of how irrelevant that is, I felt it was worth a mention.

We continued our drive the day after the wedding, and it went a bit less smoothly. I took the first shift driving, and didn't go for a whole tank before I felt like I was nodding off. We pulled over and Taylor took over after I filled up. I dropped off to sleep and woke up an hour or so later. After a while I noticed Taylor was being pretty quiet. I asked if she was okay and she just nodded tersely. With a little more coaxing I found she had to use the bathroom urgently, and needed to eat. I suggested we find a place to top off the tank and grab a bite and use the restroom. After several more miles it was apparent that none of the little California towns were offering all three things. She took an exit to try to get us to a McDonald's before I realized the GPS was trying to turn us around. She pulled into a little parking lot and gave up on driving. I took over, and we had the deep misfortune to wind up in Bloomington, California. If my blog had a soundtrack, this would be where a sharp, ominous sound would crash in the background.

After passing several exits that didn't announce food or gas just to watch a gas station fly past, I finally just took an exit. I was initially determined to backtrack to the last exit where I'd seen both a McDonald's and an Arco, but then I saw the the one I'd taken had a Valero. Thinking of Taylor's urgent need to use the bathroom I tried to get to it, only to find that there was no left turn access. I ended up having to trail a construction zone for a mile or two before I could do a U-turn and get back to the gas station. I pulled in and Taylor was out like a shot. I started to fill up the tank and it was topped off by the time she got back. "Do you have the bathroom key? I have to go to." She looked like she'd just returned from a war zone and slowly shook her head. "You do not want to go into that bathroom." She finally told me that it was the worst bathroom she'd ever seen, there was no seat on the toilet, and it was utterly disgusting. Having not seen it, I'm going to assume it was the kind of bathroom with fluorescent lighting that flickers malevolently at you, with cracks dripping moisture and mildew down the walls and cockroaches that shuffle out of sight when the light turns on (regardless of the fact it was in the desert).

So we headed out, and I intended to leave the godforsaken little town when I heard my gas cap clunking against my car. I swore and avoided the freeway entrance to pull onto a side street. Taylor then reminded me that she was hungry and we'd passed a Taco Bell. I screwed on my cap and headed us back in the right way, managing to stall my car on the way. I was utterly frazzled and fed up with the shitty little place, with its complete lack of left turns, its scary bathrooms, and it's endless construction zones. We got some tacos and got the hell out of there, and if I saw a news report that Bloomington had burned to the ground (and there was miraculously no casualties at all) I would sigh a tiny sigh of sweet sweet vengeance.

I'm pretty well settled in now,  with a job at a small shop called Oil and Viegar (I bet you can't guess what they sell.) I'm still on the job market since the pay isn't what I'd feel comfortable living on. Leeloo has overcome her overwhelming terror of ceiling fans to start joining us around the house.