Monday, March 15, 2010

Not One, But Two

Flat tires, that is. That's how many I got on March 3rd when I drove over a curb in South Boston on the way to meet friends for an alumni Celtics game. Sigh. To my credit, the curb stuck out pretty far into the road . . . but still. Luckily, we were able to get AAA to tow the car to a garage right near my friends' apartment and they were able to change the tires in the morning early enough to get me to work and Justin to school on time. I hate weeknight car drama, though.

THEN, the following Wednesday, I was walking into the grocery store near my office to get some lunch and I heard a loud bang and someone yelling. I turned to see an old man lying in the nearby crosswalk with the SUV that hit him alongside. Along with many other passersby, I ran over to check on him, pulling out my phone to call 911 on the way. Emergency services came along pretty quickly and took him off to the hospital. I think he probably broke his hip, based on the way he landed. As for the stupid woman who hit him - I have no sympathy for her. As I said to both Justin and my mother, he was a 91-year old man with a walker. How fast could he have been going that she didn't see him?!?! Oy.

THEN, later that day, I had the experience that prompted my cryptic statement at the end of the other day's post. I work at a museum and we have a small gift shop that sells reproduction arrowheads. An older gentleman came in that afternoon, saying that he had bought some arrowheads for his grandkids over the summer, they loved them, and he wanted to get some more for their classmates. This gentleman then proceeded to examine, in painful detail, each and every arrowhead that we had in the shop and even the ones in back stock! Annoying though that was, the kicker was when he noticed broken-off edges, licked his thumb, and rubbed it on the arrowheads. !!! He then proceeded to put those arrowheads, fresh with spit, back into the basket for sale. As I said before, nothing in my 28 years of life experience prepared me to tell a grown-ass man not to lick store merchandise.

What a weird week.

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