First thing. I got up really early to run errands this morning, and found some punk had shattered my driver’s side window. I was kinda chuckling over the irony because my car alarm had gone off again last night after a RILLY loud false alarm the night before. I knew it would cost me a coupla hundred to fix, but the fact that some people just fucking suck ass didn’t damper my mood.
Wherever I go, white trash follows me within my skin. I am not ashamed of it because it is who I am and people of all classes recognize that. Sometimes it ain’t a thang. Really, usually I exchange banter with other bloo-colla strangers out in the world. Fuck assumptions that blind us all.
But anyways, I hate to return stuff because I am accustomed to occasionally being scrutinized by suspiscious store managers. When I am treated like I stole something, I just bear it. Today I had to go to three different stores to do returns and kinda felt like I was begging to prove my decency at two of them — managers called, double-checking, looking me up and down. Meanwhile, my truck is parked outside all open, and I am hoping no one tries to fucking do another heist on me. The day was starting to weigh on me, but I was still bebopping.
Another errand — donating some stuff at the women’s shelter. When I was whipping my truck around, a man screamed and I realized his car was parked at an angle behind me in the parking lot. SHIT! So I jump out, totally apologize— relieved to see the “almost” accident didn’t even so much as disturb the dust on his car — not a dent, dimple, or scratch. I didn’t feel any impact and don’t know if I actually made contact with his car. He was a hootie older guy wearing Raybans, pleated shorts, and $400 BOAT SHOES. I smile, shake his hand and say, “Whew! That was close. I am glad you hollered before any damage was done!” Uhm. He wants to make a report with the police and contact my insurance if I have any, “just in case” there is any “internal damage” later that isn’t visually apparent. So I bend over and clean the dirt from his fender with my white tshirt. “Fella, I think I must have simply backed into your tire. Really. You can see there is no damage at all here, right?” He ignored me and dialed the police.
Texas is a no-fault state and it makes your insurance go up to report a fender bender. Most people just exchange info and take care of it between them. In this case, no fender was bent! No lie. REALLY. No damage at all.
I said as gently as I could, “I am really sorry I wasn’t paying closer attention, but surely you can see there is no damage? I don’t understand why we can’t have the simple kindness between us to be thankful that no damage was done.” But no. Lowlifes will sully up his planet if he does not exercise his rights. My own faith in humanity was truly waning now.
Minutes later… the fucking SWAT team has been called and I am practically handcuffed. Nothing makes me feel like a criminal more than suspicious store managers and affluent old white guys with stupidly expensive shoes — *except* for Johnny Law. When I was younger, I drove a hobo truck that always aroused attention from the police. I never got tickets for moving violations (hell, mah ride wasn’t capable of speeding!) but I would get a pile of tickets because I could not afford insurance or tags, nor the tickets that resulted from being so poor. So I was thrown in jail several times for the resulting warrants that I could not pay back in my college days. I have met cops that I like as people, but my experience with the longer arm of the law has NOT been kind.
And now I am standing in dirty jeans in the sun and white trash is steaming off me, as it always is. My truck window is busted out like I just stole it, and my truck bed is full of boxed household items and clothing to donate to the women’s shelter. Earlier these things felt like a gift of some sort of hope, and now …. tell-tale refuse. My new damned insurance card was on my desk on home … so again I cannot offer any proof of the financial responsibility that is required to operate a motor vehicle in this state. And this cop is tightlipped, not even looking at me, calling in to see if I have any warrants, getting statements from witnesses. Eh, it was so ridiculous, and the cop was just so fucking rude. The old guy started to feel like an asshole somewhere in the middle of my interrogation, so he starts jerking on his pleated shorts and explaining to me that he simply has to be careful and he just wants to be certain there are no problems later… surely I understand… blah blah. But I am done assuaging people today. The cop says, “You are clean”, as if he is surprised or maybe disappointed, and then gives me a look that says I best stay that way.
Back to my to-do list when I got home. I called the police station to file a crime report… because I am… afterall… the one who actually did get robbed today. Pfft. And while the officer is taking my info over the phone to file the report about my bashed in window, my fucking cell phone ran out of juice.
:(
Uhg.
/rant
Fucked up day.
No comments yet.