Close Call For Alcohol

Last night I was driving home, minding my own business, sober as a saint, when this chick totally hit on me.

I know, you're looking at the picture of my car, picking up on the not so clever hit on me double meaning, rolling your eyes. But you don't know the half of it!

Yeah, she hit on me. Side swiped a healthy portion on the rear panel of my car. I saw her hulking SUV in my periphery as I came around the circle. I swerved like a fixie in city traffic but I still heard the swoosh of paint on paint.

I suspect her bass drowned out the sound in addition to her judgment because I believe she chalked this up to a close call. I wasn't sure what to do as I relocated to the center lane of Chevy Chase Circle. I came to a complete stop there between the fountain and the church.

She sidled up next to me peering down from her massive automobile, and stopped dead next to me in the lane that should have been mine. When I looked up at her the most curious thing happened. She was grinning from ear to ear and gave me an emphatic thumbs up. Repeatedly. Like: hey I dig your bumper sticker! Mind if I grab a rubbing of it?

And then she drove on. I can't say she didn't stop per se, because she did, but she didn't. I was in shocked disbelief. Did this bitch just hit my car, cheer my driving tactics, and continue on? Why yes, that's exactly what she did.

Way to go! Drive Baby Drive! Shake those Civic Hips! But you actually HIT my car! It's not okay. Scared the paint right off your own. You don't get to thumbs up me. You can't say something nice and leave your paint on my chassis cover. WHAT is wrong with you? Thank god I was in a car.