Stoned

So yesterday I had a car accident. It was the first accident I have had with a car since the spring of 1993 (15 frickin' years ago) when I backed into a concrete pillar at the Radisson Hotel Marco Island at an Interact convention.

I had to go to Starbucks that morning to meet with a young woman who wanted to get her Girl Scout troop linked up with the volunteer agency I am a part of. After leaving the meeting, I had to go to the airport to get a bid sheet because it is the time of the month where we put our trip requests in for the coming month.

I am driving down the road when this guy on a side street pulls out in front of me. I slam on the breaks, but it's too late in the game and I run right in to him.

He can't get out of the car because when I hit him, the driver side door was pinned shut. He backed up to the side street and I pulled off the road. He climed out of his mini-van from the passenger side door. Mr. Jones (the names have been changed to protect the innocent) looked like he was one of the folks who was at Woodstock. He managed to tie back what little graying hair that he had in a pony tail. He said he didn't see me coming (duh?!) and that he normally looks left, then right, then left again, but in this case he forgot.

So I got his insurance information and we exchanged phone numbers. As I am getting ready to leave, he starts talking to me about important points in ones life, and he reaches into his pocket. At this point, I am thinking this guy is going to pull out a gun or shoot me. He pulls out a handful of polished stones and says that he carries them around to remember when events like this happen. He hands me a black polished stone so I when I look at it, I will always remember the day he pulled out in front of me.

So not only did I have a car accident yesterday, but I also got stoned.