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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
How soon do we schedule/plan the international Meetup and Writers’ Roundtable?
Help a brother out?
I don’t know either. And after reading their Wikipedia entry, I’m still not sure.
However, I did note that, since 2006, they have been sponsors of something called the National Marine Manufacturers Association. Figure we should be properly grateful to anyone who’s doing their bit to make sure we don’t run out of those.
@ontheleftcoast ?
My error. Not the founders, the late CEO:
Last updated 1/22/15
Could be worse, I suppose. At least back then the ACLU was good on the First Amendment.
Bulgogi bibimbap without egg?
I don’t even understand how that could be good…? That oozy, yolky goodness is the delicious glue that makes the meal.
Exactly, not that bulgogi, rice, mixed veggies and sweet hot pepper paste would be bad, exactly, but, it’s not really bibimbap.
Dude, your stories are the best.
I wouldn’t have known this. If they started asking for cash, then yeah, I’d just shoot them with my blaster.
Driving there immediately from Charlotte, NC: Beef Bulgogi & Kimchi Tacossoft tacos with beef Bulgogi, lettuce, onion, sour cream, cheese, kimchi salsa
@chriscampion: Thank you.
Really? That’s crazy. I’ve always had such good service with them it’s weird when I hear people have problems like that. Sucks.
@bossmongo you should seriously consider consulting a lawyer about your citation – preferably a friend who will be on your side. I don’t know how it is in Florida, but by having a citation in North Carolina, it would open you up to civil litigation by the woman who was trying to scam you. If you don’t have a citation, there is no basis of a claim at least here.
<span class="atwho-inserted" contenteditable="false" data-atwho-at-query="@nickh“>@nickh: Copy that. I thought they were great right up until they dropped me like a bad habit. It wasn’t just that they dropped me, but the way they did it. Fodder for a different post.
Sparta.
Yeah, but…Alphabetically? :-)
We had State Farm for 25 years, until they dropped us. Then they were shocked when we pulled our auto insurance too.
Talked to my insurance adjuster today:
-Car is totaled. Buh-bye Nissan Altima that I hated until I started driving it. Then I loved it. If I won $7.9 million in the lottery (which would be weird, since I don’t play lotto), I’d still keep that vehicle. <sniff>
–Abuela has retained a lawyer and is going to sue me for “injuries.”
I’ll update as things evolve.
Of course she did. Cue crooked doctor(s.)
Same set up happened to my wife, same county, same injury claim. The insurance company pays (ours was Progressive) so they fight it.
We didn’t have to do anything during the court hearings and after a while they notified us we won. That was all (except for having to buy a new car).
Hope it ends well for you too.
Sorry BM for your loss. This is another argument for tort reform. The Progressives fight tooth, fang and claw against it every time it gets mentioned. I suppose the current legal system insanity is settled science.
Sorry, Boss. This kind of hassle keeps the world from going ’round.
<span class="atwho-inserted" contenteditable="false" data-atwho-at-query="@iwe“>@iwe: Thanks. But, wasn’t hurt. Not looking forward to the “get a new car as rikki-tik as possible” drill. But, I’m not dealing with insurance because one of my kids is in the hospital. I’m not running around because my wife or one of the kids (or a combination thereof) were in an accident. So, that’s good.
I’ll surf this out, get to shore, and go back to steady state. It’s all good.
No, but it’s a big industry that owns many legislators, or at least rents them regularly. The science is kind of disturbing, though. With what we know, there’s a lot of TBI out there from car accidents that doesn’t get addressed.
It is a racket. The laws are written by lawyers for lawyers.
How many millions did John Edwards make by BS lawsuits? Trial lawyer getting rich off of the backs of legitimate big businesses.
Big tobacco: The litigation that keeps on giving.
I took a case on years ago as a favor to a friend. Guy had been a waiter at a trendy LA restaurant, and doing a lot of cocaine and booze and otherwise burning the candle at both ends. He turned wrong at work carrying a tray, and felt something give way in his back. He had a bulgingthoracic disk and a couple of bad costovertebral sprains. His work comp case was on appeal because he was responding so slowly and kept relapsing. Not surprising because the tissues in his back felt like those of an old person who had been on steroids for years. What used to be called PPP. [expletive]Poor Protoplasm.
Anyway, he cleaned up his act, started eating and sleeping right, and things began to turn around. He was just beginning to feel a lot better when he was waiting for a light at the bottom of a freeway exit and was rear ended by a vehicle the police report said was doing 50 mph when it hit him.
He was set back. A lot. The auto insurance company for the driver who hit him and the Work Comp board each wanted the other to pay for everything.
He had decided he wanted to help people. He started by getting massage training at a pretty good place. He liked it, plus school gave him a lot of people to do trades with. One of my teachers said that a lot of people get into the healing arts because there’s something wrong with them or a loved one they want to try and fix. Whether they succeed or not, there comes a time when they need to decide to do the work for its own sake or get out.
This guy decided to stay in. He told me that he had decided to settle the case for his bills and a little more than that and forget about trying to max out payments for future medical care. All his doctors had no doubt he would have permanent damage from the rear end accident.
But he said that in order to do that, he would have to spend the next year or two proving how messed up he was, and that that wouldn’t be good for him. He wanted to be on the side of health. I still tear up thinking of that conversation.
So he moved on. The last I heard of him was some very favorable feedback from one of his clients.
But the future medical would have been legit. Forget fraud. Paying for all the real consequences of MVAs would probably make it too expensive to drive.
I suspect your friend is an outlier.
No question about it. Decided he needed to, too.
Here’s the thing, honest hardworking Americans that just want a fair break will never understand. In Miami (aka The 305) there are a host of parasites that swarm on every single federal assistance program, every single state or municipal “leg up” program, in order to determine and exploit how to get something for nothing.
In the 305, getting over is an art form. If you’re someone that cannot imagine doing a split disbursement at the grocery store betwixt what your EBT card will cover and what you’ve got to pay on your own, while holding up the entire line because you’re blowing off the cashier to have a conversation on your current-gen iPhone, then you cannot imagine how rife fraud and abuse is in the 305.
First, because you cannot imagine scamming the system in such a way that you would have split disbursements in the grocery store. Second, because you cannot imagine blowing off the time requirements of everyone in line behind you.
Boss, given today’s story, I think you might have stolen a post title that over folks might have been looking to use.
Stacy McCain: