I realized I casually mentioned that I was in the process of buying a car a few posts back, but I never elaborated on why this was a necessity. And boy, is THAT a good story.
So, without further adieu -
The Three Days in Which I Slowly Destroyed Everything I Owned (Including My Own Body):
It started innocently enough. February 2010. I was lending my choreographic skills to a group of Microsoft nerds who had formed an acapella group and needed some smooth moves and stage presence tips to help them wow the judges. I had driven my trusty Honda Accord, acquired my Junior year of high school and the only car I've ever owned, to their rehearsal space in Queen Anne. The house they rehearsed in was in a twisty, hard to find, neighborhood. It was dark. It was rainy. And, as the sole woman in a rehearsal full of four nervous computer geeks, it was awkward.
I finally escaped the rehearsal unscathed and grateful that the experience was over. I hopped into my car ready to speed off into the night when, as I was backing out of the driveway, I felt a little tug on the front of my car. My bumper was caught on a bush. For a brief second I considered going out there and untangling it, but, you guys, it was rainy and my night had been so awkward and I just wanted to go home and eat the cookies Alli had baked. So I figured my car could dominate that bush and decided to just pull out and let my bumper rip off that stupid little twig.
Well, that was a stupid idea.
I heard a loud 'clunk' and felt a very fast wooshy sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I scurried out of my car only to confirm my worst fears. That stupid twig had succeeded in ripping my bumper off my car.
But only half of it. The half that had engaged in Twig Battle '10 was laying defeated in the mud, but the other side was still steadfastly attached to my little Honda, ready to valiantly protect my car from rain and curbs and other cars. My first thought was to just hop back in flee the scene, but my front bumper hanging off obviously prevented that. BUT those Microsoft guys were getting ready to leave and I didn't want them to witness my embarrassing predicament (because they would mock me?) so I managed to back my car into a little tree covered alcove where I could hide my shame.
First I called my mom. Her advice?
"Go ask those guys to help you! They would be so excited to help a damsel in distress!".
No. Mom, no.
So then I called Ricky. His advice? Pretty much the same.
OH MY GOD WHY DID NO ONE UNDERSTAND THE AWKWARDNESS OF THIS SITUATION.
Steadfast in my refusal to go back in there, I did what any normal person would do. I stood the freezing February Seattle rain and ripped off the bumper with my bare hands. It took ten minutes, but in the end I was victorious.
That victory was short lived, however, when after my victory dance was over I realized that I couldn't abandon my bumper with the licence plate on it. So then there were ten more minutes of struggling while I wedged the bumper into the backseat of my car.
The next day, still sad about my car's mishap but trying to stay optimistic, I found myself in my 8:30am Music for Dancers class. The class was just ending and I was on my way downstairs to the locker room to change for ballet. I stepped into the hallway and saw that the doors on the huge industrial elevator were closing on it's riders. Not wanting to be left behind and wait a whole three minutes for it to come back, I yelled "WAIIIIIIT" and took a running leap into the elevator. Normally it's sensors would have sensed me and opened the doors back up. But they didn't. The doors shut on my knee and slammed me to the ground.
Blood covered my jeans within seconds. The elevator gave a grating moan and shut down. Everyone walked to the locker room.
The puncture on my knee was small, but since it was on a joint it wasn't able to scab since I kept moving it to walk and stuff. After rinsing the blood out of my pants twice, I gave up and just rocked the bloody leg look the rest of the day.
Finally, class and rehearsals were finished and I made my way back to my sad car that I had parked near-by. Eager to go home and change out of blood-soaked clothes, I started pulling out of my parallel parking spot, when I car I didn't see came speeding around the corner. I stopped in time. She didn't.
The drivers side was destroyed. There was screaming. There was crying. The cops showed up within minutes.
After they assessed the damage one of the cops looked down and said with surprise,
"Oh my gosh! Do you need an ambulance?"
*Through tears* "Huh? No....I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
Finally realizing he was looking at my bloody leg - "Oh! No, this was EARLIER. Different accident! It's cool!"
They continued to go about their business.
A few minutes later he exclaimed - "Wait! Where is your bumper?"
By this point I was just getting exasperated.
"It's in the backseat! DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT."
Finally, a ticket and tow truck fee later, I made it home. I hopped into the shower hoping to relax - and shaved and inch and a half of skin off my ankle. Which slowly swelled to twice it's normal size. And turned into a staph infection. That forced me into the hospital and resulted in much pain, a reprimand from the nurse for continuing to dance on it it "because it could spread to the bone and force us to possibly amputate", and a tetanus shot.
I still have the scar.
A few days later my ipod inexplicably died.
To this day I have a sneaking suspicion that somebody cursed me.