Yesterday started out pretty normal. I spent the entire day working a recruiting event at the Veteran's hospital in Minneapolis, and I had a lot of fun with our new recruiter even though the traffic flow was pretty slow. We wrapped up around 4:15, and I was anxious to get back to my car and hit the road since I knew I was going to be spending some time trying to get across Minneapolis in rush hour traffic. When I got out to the parking lot, I noticed that one of the other recruiters from a school I won't name was parked next to me. She was packing her bags into her trunk and seemed to be in about as much of a rush as I was to get out of the crowded parking lot. I jumped in my car, fired up my GPS, and made a quick phone call before I started the trek home. Suddenly, I heard a loud crack and a thud and my car jolted forward. I looked into my rear view window to see a van quickly pulling forward and away from my car. I was a little shaken, but I was physically okay, so I jumped out of Journey and went to the back to check the damage. There on the ground I saw the pieces of my tail light scattered about. The other recruiter (let's call her Jessica) was still standing outside her car and she asked if I was okay. When I told her that I was fine, she said, "I can't believe that guy did that and just drove away!" I asked if she had seen the company name on the side of the van, and she told me that she wasn't paying attention. Then she pointed across the parking lot and screamed, "There he is! Hop in my car and we'll go get his information."
Now, I'm usually not a confrontational guy, and I have been involved in a little parking lot fender bender before that ended very civilly (the old woman and I actually hugged before we left and she told me that if anyone in the world could have backed into her BMW, she was glad it was me). Still, I was pretty peeved that the guy hit and run me since he had to have felt the impact. My adrenaline was pumping, so I wasn't necessarily thinking straight when I told her thank you and jumped in her front seat. I didn't know her from Adam, but she's in my business, so that by default makes her good people. I figured that I needed to leave my car in the exact place of the accident so when the entire CSI team showed up they could more easily solve the crime. I pictured the red plastic being surrounded by little white chalk outlines. The parking lot was fairly large so I'm pretty sure I couldn't have ran over and caught him on foot, even though the van was sitting at a red light waiting for the passengers on the nearby Light Rail station to load into the train. As we got closer, we were able to make out the name on the side of the van, and it was a local company I wasn't familiar with. However, about the time we pulled up the light changed to green and the van started to pull away. I figured having the name of the delivery company was sufficient enough information to at least be able to report the crime. Jessica saw it differently.
Before I had time to object, Jessica pulled into the line of traffic and started down the street after the van. He was at least four vehicles ahead of us, but the van was tall enough that I could still see its top. I turned to Jessica and said, "Hey, I got the name of this guy's company. Just let me Google it, we'll give them a call, call the police, and go from there." "Don't worry about it," she replied. "As long as you don't have any place to be, it isn't any trouble. Plus, they're going to want to know a license plate or a vendor number or something." I was pretty sure that her logic was failed, but she was kind of cute, she was listening to my favorite radio station, and her car smelled like vanilla. We were on an adventure, and Match.com couldn't hold a candle to this kind of excitement. We kept the van in sight and cracked a couple of jokes about how we were like Batman and Robin, but how we weren't really sure which of us was which. All we knew for sure was that we were both glad neither of us was wearing tights.
The van drove a couple of blocks and turned right. This was our opportunity to make up some ground on him. We followed suit, and suddenly there was only one car between our super-villain and our make believe Batmobile. However, that car kept us from getting our license plate number and finally bringing the fugitive to justice. It was a nice spring day and we had the windows rolled down, so the anxiety of being in a slow speed chase was lessened by two new friends giggling about our adventure as we hummed the Batman theme together. We drove for maybe a mile until we saw the van turn on its blinker as it approached a set of golden arches. Holy cheeseburgers! Our suspect's need for a Big Mac was just the break in the case that we needed. We pulled into the parking lot behind him, and Jessica pulled into a parking spot just on the other side of his. The driver jumped out of his van, and I wasn't necessarily overwhelmed by his stature. He looked like a taller version of Danny DeVito with a stocking cap on, and he walked with a slight limp. Not exactly Brock Lesnar. We waited for him to get inside, and I asked with the giddiness of an 8-year old, "What do we do now?" Jessica thought for a second and then decided, "I'll get out and pretend like I'm checking something in my trunk, you keep your window down and dial 911, and then I'll just read off the license plate to you and you can give it to the dispatcher."
I am not a stupid person, but this idea seemed out of control stupid. However, I was in the car of a pretty woman who just drove me, a total stranger, into the middle of suburbia, and who was sitting about a foot away looking directly in my eyes, wanting confirmation that her idea was the only right answer. And she hummed the Batman theme with me. And she smelled like vanilla. I'm a people pleaser, and I wanted to please her in particular. I smiled, choked down my common sense, and squeezed out a, "That's a great idea!" With that Jessica popped her trunk and jumped out of the car while I pulled out my phone and started holding down the 9 button (a shortcut on my BlackBerry for 911). I waited until the dispatcher came on and asked what my emergency was. At that moment, I realized I had no idea what I was going to say that wouldn't make me sound out of my freaking mind. "Yes, ma'am, uhhhh, I was in a parking lot and a guy backed into me and broke my tail light, so I hopped in a car with a strange woman who smells like vanilla, probably left my car door standing wide open, chased a van for the last ten minutes, and am currently sitting next to the van of a man who is probably armed but who needed a Shamrock Shake to help wash down all of his murderous rage. Are you ready for his license plate?" That wasn't going to do.
So, I explained to the nice woman that I had been in a hit and run accident and that I was currently sitting next to the vehicle of the person who hit me. She asked me to repeat myself and then asked if there was a confrontation, and I told her no, everything was fine but that we needed an officer to come quickly to McDonald's because I wasn't sure how long the guy was going to be there. She said, "Sir, whatever you do, please avoid confrontation. If you get us his license plate number, even if he leaves we can find him." The words "avoid confrontation" were ringing in my ears as I heard Jessica say, "Are you ready?" I asked the dispatcher if I could give her the numbers, and Jessica started reading them out loud to me. It was at about the moment that she got the last number out that I looked in the side mirror and saw our man coming back towards the vehicle. "Get in the damned vehicle, Jessica!" was the only thought running through my mind. I told the 911 operator that the guy was coming back to his van, and she told me to just sit tight and that an officer would be there shortly. I've never had the best luck with police response times, so I was hoping being in a fast food parking lot would be the added motivation to get someone here quicker. As she was wrapping up her instructions, I heard a female say in a very loud voice, "You know, you've got some balls, buddy!" My heart was in my throat.
I quickly turned around to see what was going on, but the trunk was still open, obscuring my view. I flipped back forwards and stuck my head out the window to see that Jessica had stormed across the parking lot and was right in the van driver's face. "Sir? Sir?" The operator was still on the line, and I quickly told her, "You need to get someone here fast! There's a fight!" I hung up the phone and dropped it somewhere on the floor board. There were a million things I wanted to do at that moment, and getting out of the car was not to be found on that list. The guy seemed genuinely surprised by Jessica's sneak attack, and she was really starting to lay into him. "You know, it is guys like you who make this world such a great place to live in. You think because you drive a van for a living you must be better than the rest of us and get to just do as you please? Guess what? Only a loser would hit and run someone, in a hospital parking lot no less!" I could tell the guy had gone from surprised to irritated. "Hey, hey, hey," I said in my authoritative Housing Director voice as I stepped out of the car. "There's no reason to get in a fight." "Oh yeah," he replied. "She your wife?"
His question caught me off guard, and my voice went from authoritative to intimidated as I mumbled out, "Nah, we're not married." He looked me up and down, and although he was probably 20 years my senior and a couple inches shorter than me, I think he saw the fear in my eyes. Or maybe he smelled the shit in my pants. Either way, he was ready to push the issue. "I didn't hit your car, man, so tell this bitch she better settle the fuck down." Evidently those were the magic words that made Jessica, a total stranger who I was trusting my life with, snap and reach out and knock the guy's drink out of his hands. The closest I've ever been to a physical altercation in my 29-years on this planet was when my car door reached out and smashed my nose a few weeks ago. That was more than enough for my taste. Thankfully, I wasn't his target (who says chivalry is dead?). He reached out both hands and gave Jessica a hard enough push that she went sprawling on the ground. I immediately turned to try to catch her, but I missed. I reached down to help her up, but I'm pretty sure I no longer existed at that moment. "Where's my fucking purse?!" There were no tears in her eyes, but so much anger in her voice as she jumped up and ran towards her car door. I'm sure my eyes were as big as dinner plates as I turned back to look at the delivery man. He looked at least as shocked as I did at what was going on. I'm pretty sure when he got dressed that morning he didn't plan on knocking a girl over in a parking lot. It was official: this was God's way of telling me to keep my tubby butt away from McDonald's or else He was going to make me the key witness in an assault trial.
Jessica came back around the corner with her purse and was digging to the bottom. Delivery guy and I just stood there like twin statues, both wondering if it was a knife, a gun, or a grenade that she was going to pull out of the bottom of her bag. She finally found what she was searching for and pulled out a small plastic container as she dropped her purse and all of its contents on the cement. I've seen enough police dramas to know that someone was about to get pepper sprayed, and I'd be damned if it was going to be me. At last, my desire to get a phone number of a girl who knew Batman and smelled like vanilla was finally outweighed by my desire to get as far away from this crazy chick as possible. Delivery guy must have realized what was in his future, and he quickly turned around, threw open the double doors on the back of the van and tried to climb in. As I turned to dive for cover, I saw the lights of the police car pulling in and hard the squawk of the siren. None of this was going to stop Jessica from her mission. The poor delivery man who made an honest mistake and backed into a poorly made American car whose light probably wasn't in there all that well to begin with was about to get maced, but he was going to fight that fate as hard as he could. From my spot on the ground somewhere near the large puddle of urine that appeared out of nowhere, I had a good vantage point of the rest of the proceedings. Jessica opened fire and sprayed her weapon in the general direction of the van. The policeman was now out of his car and screaming for her to stop as he ran towards her. Delivery guy had his front half of his body in the van as he was clawing his way towards safety, his feet still dangling out the tail end. Jessica took a step closer to the double doors and began spraying the inside of the van, and I could hear the screams echoing inside the vehicle as she finally hit her target. The cop got to her about the time that she got to the delivery guy, and she began hitting his thighs, clawing at his shirt. The officer grabbed her and began to drag her away from her helpless victim, and it was this point that she reached out and started pulling his leg...
Just like I'm pulling yours.
Happy April 1!
Jeff
PS - That's called the Sybil Special. If you liked my little journey into make-believe land, help me out by not tipping anyone off on Facebook. In fact, feel free to make the story even that much more believable for future readers by selling it a little in a FB comment, maybe an "OMG!" or "Glad you're okay, you handsome devil!" Let's work together, people!
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