Homygawd.
I just got into my first car accident. Well, technically, it wasn't my car accident, it was Joe's, but I've never been in the car when one has happened.
So we're driving down the street, heading towards the Plaza when the light turns yellow, then red. The guy in front of us was about to go through, and then stopped. Of course, Joe slammed on the breaks, screeching occured and we slammed into the back of the dude's car.
Not to mention that it was a day-old spankin-new-yellow Honda S2000 sportscar.
Damn.
The guy ended up being really nice, although Joe was shaking like a leaf and looked like he was about to puke on the curb. We pulled over - it was minor scratches and stuff, nothing major. He called the cops since he's on a lease, but both parties decided to settle it outside of the realm of insurance.
Phew, what a pretty scary night. I watched the impact in slow motion, the Chariots of Fire theme playing in my head. I saw the impact from meters away, but I couldn't do anything to stop it. It's so strange, feeling absolutely powerless and helpless even though you know your boyfriend is slamming on the breaks. It's almost as if you're willing the cars to stop.
I felt partly to blame, because I was the one that wanted to go out, and I was the one that was really pushing for Joe to come over tonight. But I guess it couldn't be helped, and to quote the guy that we rammed/beamed/banged tonight, "Shit happens."
I'm in the middle of watching Death to Smoochy. I hope it gets better - Ed Norton is so likeable!
Talk much later; can't wait for Daniel to get home.
