October 2008

As bad as some of my "Why Wasn't I Killed" stories can get, there is only one time in memory when I physically and hypothetically could have died. That happened last Thursday. As you already know from reading, only I have the super power to turn a quiet afternoon at a coffee shop into a Grade-A catastrophe. Well this one started innocently enough as well. How does a casual stroll on a Tuesday afternoon sound? What could possibly go wrong from a casual afternoon walk through the Lower East Side of NY? I'll tell you what.

It was late October of 08'. To get my mind off all the craziness that's been going on in my life lately, I decided to take a walk downtown to check out a showcase for the CMJ Music Festival, which I documented last year in my "Rock N Roll Lifestyle" section. I was walking with my Ipod on, listening to The Ramones or the Arctic Monkeys, something like that. Who cares. Then it happened.

As is usually the case with New York City walking, I decided to spring ahead to make a quickly changing light. This is common practice among walkers, especially in crowded areas of the city, with aggressive walkers slowly inching out into the street and waiting to jump at the first possible second they can get to the other side of the street without being killed. I was crossing a small two-way side street. The light was getting close to turning, so I decised to bolt and try to get it. I was a step too quick. I began to run into the street and reached the halfway mark, when mentally I forgot it was two-way. Then I felt a huge rush of air as a large white minivan sped by from my blind side, mere inches away from demolishing my helpless body. This was one time when I truly did not look both ways before I crossed, and almost paid the price with my life.

I jumped back to the curb as quick as feet could allow me, and startled by the imminent shock of almost being roadkill, and with nothing else I really could say, I unleashed a series of very loud rapid-fire curse words in the general direction of the car that almost hit me at the top of my lungs. Then I stopped to look around me. Traffic for blocks around had ground to a halt, and people for blocks had ceased their conversation, disturbed by my tortured screams. I was definitely the center of negative attention.

Then I heard it. "You gotta thank God man". I looked up, and it was a garbage truck driver on the other side of the street. He had seen everything. He continued: "You really are lucky to be alive right now kid. Sometimes, you just gotta count your blessings". Then with these words, it sunk in. Holy shit. Ho-ly shit. I really did almost fucking die. This guy was coming at me at easily 30-40 miles per hour, and for anyone who owns one you know that a minivan is a HUGE car. Aftr talking to a couple of my buddies who are experts in science and logistics, it was determined that yes indeed, I was inches away from death.

I spent the next few minutes sulking, with my head down and my hands folded, almost in a prayer. I was not praying though, just merely reflecting on what could have been, and just thinking that, no matter how bad things can get, and trust me right now they are, financially and hypothetically speaking, bad, that being alive is probably the most important thing.

This was indeed a moment of deep thought, but it was interrupted by a loud scream: "You fucking idiot! Why the fuck would you do that? You're a mother fucking idiot. Watch your damn self, fool!" I looked up to see that the same white minivan that had almost hit me had backed around the block and returned to give me a thrashing. I looked at the driver. He was a very large guy, almost like a linebacker. He looked ghetto as all hell. And he was pissed off. I froze. WHY would this guy be coming back to talk to a man who almost got him into an accident? I ignored his yelling and walked into the nearest restaurant/bar. The minivan backed up and followed my exact movements. I walked into the restaurant, and immediately feared the worst. I could see out the restaurant window that the same white van that almost took my life was staring me down, and its doors were opening. I panicked, immediately running to the back of the restaurant. It looked like this guy wanted to finish the job that his car couldn't.

As you know, I am no stranger to restaurant confrontations, but I was very concerned that this one could be potentially destructive. Who knows, this guy could very easily had been loaded with a gun, a knife, or something equally dangerous. This time I literally got down and prayed that I would get out of this one OK, as the driver of that white van and his twentysomething son entered the restaurant. The driver immediately bellowed: "What the fuck is wrong with you? You almost cost me thousands of dollars in damages, boy"

The four or five people in attendance all stared at me, scared for my life as much as they were startled. I apologized to the driver, told him I was in a hurry, made a mental error and would not cause any more problems. The manager of the restaurant intervened, as the driver complained to him that I was an awful person for almost getting hit by his car.

A hipster sitting into the restaurant's bar then promptly chimed in "But he's a passer-by man. Wouldn't he have the right of way, man? Am I wrong, man?." OK, this guy was on my side. But think about it, in this situation how can a Hipster be of any use? Their logic is most likely clouded by drugs, alcohol, and indifference, and every argument they make is most likely to end with some shitty band they have their panties in a wad over. 

I squared up the hipster and told him "Look man. This guy is pissed off, don't make this any worse. I hear MGMT is playing an exclusive free show at the Warsaw in Williamsburg in half an hour. Go there." (Of course there wasn't. But I have proven by scientific trial and error that the quickest way to get rid of an annoying Hipster is to tell them that one of their bands is playing an "exclusive free show" somewhere) He gave me the finger, got up and left. OK, now of course I'm the bad guy.

I regained my composure, went up to the front of the restaurant, and calmly assured the manager, driver, and his son that I was fully calmed down and was sorry for any inconvenience. The driver then stated that they were simply following me to check on my progress and see if I was gonna be OK after nearly getting annhilated. They then assured to the manager that they would not threaten any violence or legal action. Well OK, that's a relief. I guess.

Then, they finally just asked me to "look both ways next time" before leaving the restaurant. Very startled, I wasn't so sure this angry man was not gonna keep following me. I immediately left the restaurant, then did a few evasive maneuvers and walked into an out of the way bar I knew of in a narrow back alley, where this guy's van would have no chance of following me into. I watched the door for the next few minutes, and convinced that I had escaped death by the closest margin ever, I suddenly decided that I needed a drink. The bar, a hole in the wall, was having a happy hour special where you could get some PBR-quality horse piss beer, and a shot of straight Jack, for five bucks. I made a bee-line for the bar and ordered it. The bartender was puzzled:

"It's barely even 5PM. Are you sure you want such a large percentage of alcohol so early?

My response: "Don't tell me what I can and can't drink. Girl, I'm lucky to be alive. Now pour me a shot"

Without another word, she obliged.