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Wham! Bam! Thank You Ma’am!
I’m starting this draft on Friday.
I spent the majority of this week up in Miami for a conference. I stayed in a nice little hotel a stone’s throw from Trump Doral. It’s a niche place called “La Quinta Inn.” I brought a 35-pound kettlebell and a 25-pound mace, so early mornings and evenings were spent grappling with physics.
The one great Korean restaurant I’ve been able to find in south Florida is close to the hotel, Bistro Bulgogi. The place is legit enough that frequently I’m the only customer who is not of the Han-Gook. They always remember me there. Sure, part of it’s the fact I’m a good tipper. (A coupla times, I’ve said “No change,” and the waitress looked at me a little stressed and asked, “Are you sure?”) Mostly it’s because I’m probably one of the only customers they’ve ever had that will, after an awesome repast of bulgogi bibimbap (double meat, no egg on top) and a double of all the relishes, will, when the waitress comes up to ask, “will there be anything else?” replies, “Yes, ma’am. I’d like the whole thing, again.”
Again?
Again.
The whole thing?
The whole thing.
They love me.
Rolled into town Sunday night.
Monday conference day went great. Monday night, I had some real issues with nightmares. Eh, part of the price of doing business, and I’m healthier than I have any right to be, so no bigs.
Tuesday conference day went great. Post conference worked out, cleaned up, got my Korean fix on, and went back to the room to read. Fell asleep reading on the bed. The bed decked out with that hotel favorite of all-white everything. With a dip in. Might’ve been a little droolage (Sorry, La Quinta!). Cleaned out and rinsed the swampy Copenhagen mess. It was 10 pm; I figured that if I was going to have another night dancing with and dangling on nightmares, I wanted something to drink when they woke me up. Maybe beer. Maybe sparkling water. Okay, I’ll get both. Contingencies.
Siri told me that there was a Publix grocery store 4.7 miles away. I knew there was one closer, but didn’t feel like doing discovery learning in the heart of Miami (Doral) at night, looking for a target that Siri didn’t know about. The route she gave me was a little goofy; not surface streets, but this expressway for one exit, then another for two. Still, Miami is a traffic nightmare no matter what time one travels, so I went with it.
Found the Publix. Got my beer. Got my San Pellegrino. Headed back to the hotel.
Siri gave me a route home that had a lot more surface streets. Good. Miami expressways are violence and anarchy at 70 mph. Was cruising down the street at about 35-40 mph and a car appeared right in front of me. Not “a car that I tracked did something totally contravening the laws of traffic and common sense did something outrageous that I couldn’t react to.” Nope, just right there in front of me.
I knew impact was imminent but still tried to steer away. This resulted in me striking the left rear of the other car with the right front of mine. Pretty spectacular collision. I went past the other car, pulled over, and ran back to the other car to check on the driver. Little old lady, latin, stocky, hair in a bun. Awesome. I’d just done a vehicular assault on an abuela. I gave her a hand out of her car and ensured she was okay.
We were right in front of a little restaurant. I turned to the manager/owner/whatever that came out and asked him to call the police. He said, “I am the police.” Okay, ego boy, I’mma assume your brothers in blue are en route.
Three POs showed up, in three different cars. The senior guy was big and swaggered. He had a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth and ran the scene like a champ. Though he was big, he hadn’t gone to seed, and I assessed that he was a Class A brawler. First thing I thought when I saw him was “old school.” Could’ve taken him in about 3.2 seconds and his two li’l minions within a couple seconds after that. I clamped down on that schnitt hard. No way I want any kind of challenge leaking out the sides of my eyes over that. Besides, I’d clipped abuela; I deserved what I got.
I was more than a little distraught. I’m a humdinger driver. No, that’s not a self-assessment. The USG and our dear taxpayers have spent a buttload of money ensuring that I’m one of the best drivers on the road. If you are on the road when things went to hell in a handbasket, you want to be in the vehicle I’m driving. The laws of probability shift to your favor. The laws of physics are a bitch, so no promises. How had that happened? Had my too many TBIs caught up with me? Is this PTSD’s mirthful yet merciless way of manifesting?
I could alternatively see/hear the lead officer give guidance and direction to the other two young officers. He counseled them as they denuded me of my weapons. I didn’t have any firearms on me or in the car but otherwise, it was kind of like Mad Max clearing himself to get into Barter Town. I found out later that the senior was retired, but had a gig where he still pulled duty three to four nights a month as a silverback, mentoring junior patrol guys. (@dougwatt, you heard a these kinds of programs? Your feedback if you have? Guy was solid, if a wee bit self-impressed.)
Officer Silverback ran me through a field sobriety test. Fine. I was totally unimpaired and willing to participate. I almost volunteered to do a breathalyzer or blood test but long years of training told me not to volunteer for nothing. At one point he said, “Breathe in my face.” Ooookay. I exhaled all over his mug. He asked, “What’re ya, drinking vodka so no one can smell it?” I beat down the impulse to say vodka smells. I just said negative.
The I Am The Law restaurateur walked up to Officer Silverback and told him (in Spanish) “I got it all on video.” Silverback turned to his minions and said, “I’m going inside, run him through it again.”
So the reindeer games continued. Just as I was wondering whether I should break out some back hand-springs or handstand pushups just to put the canard that I might be blotto to rest, Officer Silverback came back out and told his guys to cease work. Huh. He pulled me aside and said, “Look, you hit somebody in the rear of her vehicle and I gotta cite you for careless driving.”
“Roger that.”
“But I just seen the film, and I gotta tell ya, I’m not sure if I could’ve evaded that.”
“Roger that.”
“So, I’m citing you, but she’s got a suspended license, no insurance, and damn sure no English (this guy’s last name was Velez, or Hernandez, or something like that, so it wasn’t as racial as it might sound). You can pay fines, do driver’s school, yada-yada, but I’m telling ya if it was me, I’d go to court.”
“Roger that.”
I couldn’t drive my car because the airbag had deployed. So, rather than park the vehicle on the side of the road in Miami, I consented to have it towed. I took an Uber back to the hotel. We arrived safely with no accidents.
Next morning, I got a rental, closed out the conference, and went home.
Pro tip: If you’re ever in Miami and have an accident and your vehicle gets towed, you have to show up in person to release the vehicle to your insurance company/mechanic/mechanic’s contracted tow crew. Who knew? Four hours of my life today was spent on road, to and from the tow lot. Two hours at the tow lot making calls and ensuring everyone was going to get paid. Still, there were high points. When I showed up, I became the third person in line to talk to the dispatcher. The first was a well turned out lawyer lady, with frizzy red hair. She argued that her husband (the name on the registration) was in Ireland, but she needed the car today. Second in line was an obvious stripper (her sports-bra shirt bore the legend of her Gentlemen’s Club employer; not that I was fixated on that, or her). File under “reasons I love ‘Murica,” the hot lawyer commiserating with the hot stripper over how wrong this all was. They formed a little mini sisterhood. Brought a tear to my eye.
Shuffling paperwork back and forth with the tow company dispatcher lady, I noticed on the police “driver information exchange form” that abuela was supposedly two months younger than me. That made me a little angry.
As I pulled into my little, rooty-poot gated community a couple hours later, I got a call from my insurance investigator lady:
Mr. Mongo, I want to notify you that I’ve concluded my investigation.
Okay.
This is one of the wildest claims I’ve ever covered.
(Uh-oh) Okay.
I just want you to know that we find you have no liability whatsoever. You are not at fault whatsoever. There is no way you could have avoided the collision, and in fact, if you had not reacted as quickly as you did, the accident may have been far worse.
Okay.
Sir, it looked like a setup, like she baited you into a collision. We are pursuing action against her.
Okay.
So, onto the weekend.
Published in General
Marvelous story, very glad you’ weren’t injured, and the coda is exquisite. Hope the wretched woman gets her comeuppance in this life or the next.
My only victory, car-insurance wise, occurred years ago with a car that had already been “totaled” and resurrected twice (I am proud to own and drive such a car, which, I guess, speaks volumes), said car being rear-ended by a ditzy teenager, while driven by Mr. She as he slowed on the entrance ramp to I-70, a few miles from here.
She was at fault, it was clear, but (after the car was totaled for the third time) the insurance company valued it at $300 (go figure) and that was all they were willing to pay. They told me I could just buy a new car, and that the monthly payment I’d incur was just part of life.
No. I kicked up a huge fuss, and they eventually coughed up $1,800, which was what it cost me to have “Kenny” (God bless him and may he rest in peace) fix the thing. We drove it for another two years, before it finally, finally, gave up the ghost.
My sister used to work for Nationwide. This type of insurance fraud and what @rightangles experienced is not uncommon. It makes it harder for us law abiding citizens when we get into a real accident. Bunch of crooks.
I’m glad. I’m afraid I just can’t get past the name.
Some friends of mine had a bulldog who took against “Flo.” It was a source of great amusement that he’d start growling, barking, and slobbering, every time she came onscreen. I couldn’t quite believe the story, but saw it once with my own eyes.
Boss … far be it from me to critique you … but ( you just knew there was a “but” coming ) … “dip”?!?!
Boss. Listen. I really like reading your stuff and I want to continue enjoying it for a long time to come. The dip could put a serious crimp in that. My very best friend in the world passed away a few years ago from mouth/throat cancer most probably brought about by his dipping. And it wasn’t peaceful nor pretty. He had quit smoking years and years ago but substituted Skoal or Copenhagen or whatever. And of course he never quit the good cigars either.
I know, I know … everybody gotta go sometime and everybody who ate nothing but broccoli and kale and carrots eventually died. But please. The dip is a serious threat. Consider doing what you’d do with any other threat to you and yours. I’ll shut up now.
My great-grandfather smoked pipes and cigars until he died at 89. He didn’t die of cancer. My father is still smoking at 84. Depends on a lot of factors. It is not a straight line tobacco to early death. I’m not telling anyone to take up bad habits, but I will say to check family history.
Thanks for clearing that up.
I was just looking for the four letters myself.
@ekosj: working on it. As I’ve posted earlier, tackle big challenges with baby steps. I’ve recently taken up vaping (that’s actually kind of a big step; I can’t stand the man-bunned, skinny jean wearing vape-ors I see out and about). I haven’t had a Camel since I picked up the vape pen, and the Copenhagen consumption is down about 60%.
Of course! I’ve gotten fairly good at Caipirinhas, and everyone can instruct me about others. :-)
It is possible to lose hours by viewing Russian car crash videos on YouTube, all taken from dash-cams. Dash-cams are popular in Russia because auto accident insurance fraud is so common, so people put in the cameras to be able to defend themselves. Among the funny clips are those that show the victim driver pointing out to the perpetrator driver the presence of the dash cam, and the perpetrator driver suddenly getting back in his car and driving away.
I am seeing an increasing number of these types of dash-cam videos from the US. I hope we don’t get to the point that we will all need them to defend ourselves against fraudulent crashes.
I’ve seen those videos. In my case, the people backed into me, but it was clear they had taken aim. I mean they shot out of that space backwards at 30 mph for maximum impact. People can really make me sick at times. It’s bad enough that this practice drives insurance premiums up for us all, but when I saw that the ones who tried it on me were foreign, it made my blood boil even more.
Bibimbap with no egg? You are a barbarian, aren’t you? Proper stoneware bowls, sizzling hot? We’re going to have to check it out the next time we’re in Miami. My wife wants to buy some Dragonfruit (the plants) from a place in Homestead, if I tell her about this it is a certainty we’ll be down there.
We’ve tried some of the Korean restaurants in Orlando, one that was pretty good near UCF, another near the executive airport that was horrible, and last time probably the last Korean restaurant we’ll try in Orlando – absolutely the best 해불파전 (Haemulpachon – seafood pancake) I’ve had anywhere. Everything else rocked too. Dumpy looking place from the outside, but after eating I half felt like I would walk outside into Seoul.
Now if I could only find a barbecue place with real charcoal table grills.
Ain’t that usually the case with the good ones for most cuisines?
Affirmative.
Check the link in the OP, but Bistro Bulgogi has them.
Though I’m not myself a vaper, I’ve got nothing but good to say about it, based on my acquaintance with a handful of former smokers. Former due to vaping.
I even allow my one employee to vape in the company truck. (I do make him clean the glass, though — the glycol doesn’t evaporate.)
Get well soon MoFo.
So you’re insured by commies? Great story BTW. I agree with the other comments that you’re a great writer who should write a book recounting your adventures.
Hat tip to the Great Communicator Ronald Maximus!
~40 seconds
The most unlikely restaurant it’s possible to find, out here in the backwoods of Western PA is probably Golden Pig, a tiny little place with about four tables, and a 10×10 eating area (not sure it’s big enough to contain @bossmongo or any of several other of Ricochet’s alpha males, either singly or together), run by a lovely woman whose name is Yong Kwon. She prepares and cooks the food as close to table-side as is allowable, given PA’s rather restrictive laws on such matters.
It’s like eating in your Mom’s kitchen, except that your Mom is suddenly a nice Korean lady who’s a simply fabulous cook.
Highly recommended.
Double-tapping the bulgogi probably isn’t helping either, just sayin’ – I’m getting nightmares just thinking about it.
Probably slept at a Holiday Inn Express last night and was feeling chipper right up ’til he saw you.
This is the part that got me, uh save for the commiseration between the lawyer and the logo’d sports bra stripper. A set up. Was self proclaimed deputy dog part of it? Is this scam that happens all over Miami? Did Silver-back upset the whole show as the perps were expecting a couple of wet behind the ears local (read abuela’s famalia)? Was there a look out? “Uh we got one clearly not a local…” All things that me me go hmmmmmmm?
All for beer and water – stay thirsty my friend.
In the 305, everyone is on the hustle. So one starts with the assumption that it’s a scam/setup/con and proceeds from that start point. Was the Silverback there to mentor the young studs with his sage counsel, was he there to ensure that they knew to facilitate “accounts payable,” maybe a little of both?
Yeah, I double tap the Thai all the time with no adverse outcomes. Maybe, though, because the Korean chow is infrequent, I need to do work-ups before double pumping on entres; guess I gots to rein in my wild hedonism until the gutsack acclimates.
.
Dude, the vapers I know are folks in rural Wisconsin. Very down to earth and not at all hipster – though they were geeks like yours truly. You need a better class of vaper. :p
@dougwatt: I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down.
I still got cited, though, since I tagged the rear of her vehicle. So, the plan is, I go to traffic court, plead no contest, and then get to make comments (or, as we said in the Army, statements of mitigation and extenuation). I present that the driver of the other vehicle was not supposed to be driving, a memo from my insurance company saying they viewed the film and didn’t find me at fault. Maybe even the film itself.
Goal here is to get my citation broomed. Whatever happens to abuela happens to abuela. I hope she has a long and happy life. I just don’t want the points/fine.
Visit the cigar shop next time.
Well, not me. My Costa Rican black pepper plantation holdings are quite modest.
When they say “go to court” that means they won’t.
Pay the $65 to a traffic ticket shop. A lawyer shows up and gets it dismissed, no points.
Has happened many a time, always with success.
If you get stopped by speed trap cop, after a short discussion he will give you a seat belt violation–have many of those too.
I own a few acres of 2nd growth and a few more than that of virgin growth jungle butted up against one of the largest national parks in CR. Dream is to build a BnB on the previously cleared land.
BnB? Let me guess… bullets and bayonets?
And where the founders put their money.
I went to traffic court one time to (successfully!) fight a parking ticket. What I heard while I was waiting was pretty entertaining. The highlight was this guy explaining how come he drove about 10 or 12 miles down the freeway with a police car behind him with its lights and sirens going. The driver was contesting the ticket.
“Yes, I saw it. I was trying to get out of the way.”