Why I Didn't Post Anything New on My Blog Last Night

I meant to post last night, but by the time I got back from buying cat food at Albertson's I felt run down. 

Like I'd been hit by a truck. 

Or an enthusiastically riced Honda Civic.  Like this one.  Only darker.

Its owner revved its engine and backed out at 90.  I placed my right hand on its unnecessary spoiler, pushed myself into the air, slammed into the back windshield, then its owner threw it into drive and I rolled off the back windshield and onto the parking lot.  I heard it gun its engines and watched it drive away. 

I was still clutching the bag of cat food. 

My iRiver was still in my pocket, but I could neither feel nor find my headphones.

A kind man dropped his groceries and ran to me and asked if I needed any help. 

He said, "Do you need any help?"

I said, "I don't think so."

He said, "I didn't catch the license number."

I said, "Me neither."

He said, "Are you sure you're alright?  Do you need a lift?"

I said, "No, I live right up there."

Then I walked home.  I felt my heart pounding through my shoulder.  I climbed three flights of stairs.  It was fun.  I opened the door and put the bag of cat food in the tin. 

I poured and drank a stiff drink. 

I walked into the Little Womedievalist's office and informed her I'd sort of been hit by a car in the parking lot.

I said, "I was sort of hit by a car in the parking lot."

She said, "Are you alright?"

I said, "The man asked that too.  I was fine then but I feel sort of strange now."

She said, "What do you mean 'sort of strange'?"

I said, "Like I don't know."

She said, "We should call someone."

I called Albertson's and asked if they had cameras pointed in the parking lot.  The woman on the phone said they didn't because the parking lot belonged to the Irvine Company. 

I called the Irvine Company.  The message said, "Business hours had ended."  I hung up and called back.  I listened to the message again.  I wrote down the number of the private security company Irvine employees to watch over Albertson's parking lot.  I called them.  The dispatcher informed me that she was only a dispatcher and didn't know if there were cameras.  She said their security guard left at 7 p.m. and wouldn't return until 3 p.m. on Saturday.  She recommended I call the police.

I called the police station next to my apartment complex.  I told the officer what happened.  He said I needed to call the Irvine police because Albertson's is across the street. 

I called the Irvine police.  They said they would send someone out.  I brushed my teeth and calmed the wife.  I began to feel sort of stranger in my lower back.  I sat down on the couch with excellent posture and watched Pedro lose it in the bottom of the seventh. 

The doorbell rang.  An earnest young officer took my statement.  She asked polite questions.  Said she would have someone look into it in the morning. 

Said the important thing was I wasn't hurt. 

That the odds of catching the motorist were slim. 

That she and the civilian with her had been in Starbuck's around eight. 

That she or someone else would be back in touch sometime Saturday.  I went back inside.  Proceeded to freak out. 

Use profanity. 

Feel sort of even stranger in my lower back. 

Which then tried to implode.  Like when things wink out in cartoons.  I had offended it and it punished me by trying to make me touch my toes backwards.  I retaliated by depriving it of oxygen.  I took short breaths.  I failed to inflate my lungs.  I became light-headed.  I refused to stand up. 

I bent over forward in defiance.  It defied my defiance.  I defied its.  Modern medicine prevailed.  I took a strong muscle relaxer and slept on the hard living room floor. 

All this I did and said and had done to me and that is why I didn't post anything new on my blog last night.

Comments

[KF]

Good gravy, Scott. I hope you're okay. And I hope that for once the panopticon we live in might actually work in somebody's favor...

[Rich Puchalsky]

Dude -- go see a doctor. You have medical insurance, I seem to vaguely remember from previous blog posts. Use it. Don't just take a muscle relaxant and tough it out.

[Saheli]

Yikes, please do go see a doctor. I hope you feel better.

It's amazing how jerks are just everywhere. . .

[N. Pepperell]

Do get checked out by a doctor, if you haven't yet. And follow up on the camera issue: if the police say that the odds of catching the motorist are slim, this may mean they can't be bothered doing this themselves... Take care of yourself...

[Kevin Andre Elliott]

Dude--I know how much that sucks. Believe it or not, I've been hit by a car on three occasions, twice while riding a bike and once as a pedestrian. Listen to everyone. Go to the doctor immediately.

Take care.

[CR]

No good, Scott, no good.

Hope all is well, improving.

[New Kid on the Hallway]

Ouch! That completely sucks - I'm glad you're still standing, but do take care of yourself and go to the doctor - it took a friend of mine 6-8 weeks to recover from the damage of a similar incident, even though nothing was broken or visibly injured - the shock to the muscles/tendons/etc. is a big deal. I can't believe the asshat just drove away!

[bitchphd]

Wow, you had an adventure! How exciting!

Seriously, I'm glad you weren't hurt worse.

[Belle Lettre]

As your friend who never sees you and blanched at the thought that there was a possibility that I would never chat about critical theory and baseball over pizza with you again, listen to everyone and GO TO THE DOCTOR! One of my friends got whiplash getting rearended in a parking structure by a car going 15 mph---I do not want to think about the kind of damage you might sustain getting backed over at full speed!

Take care of yourself--rest, milk this for all the sympathy and pampering you can get, and keep us posted (as long as it doesn't hurt you) about how you're doing.

BTW, re the bastard in the parking lot--do as much as you can to find out if you can nail his ass, but know that there's a thing called cosmic justice too.

[Sine.Qua.Non]

Scott,
I am so glad you are semi-all right. GO TO THE DOCTOR! MEN! I swear to god you guys could have the worst bought of Malaria in the world and just lay there dying. As someone with a back that has been surgically altered...please, have yourself checked. Being hit by a 3,000 pound vehicle going 90 miles an hour is nothing to play with.

We would like you to be up and able to finish your doctorate and write another post some day.

[Adam Roberts]

Cars are the Devil. Sympathy to you for your back, and like everyone else I'm just really glad it wasn't worse.

[sharon]

Fuck. What a bastard.

And what everybody else said about the doctor. Please do it. We won't stop nagging till you do, you know.

[J. Hillis Killer]

It was probably one of the professors in your department (my guess: Gelley). E-mail your advisor for the "lowdown" on the culprit's identity. Then buy some spray paint, a box of eggs, and a Slinky, drive up to Uni Hills, and get little womedieval on his ass.

[Scott Eric Kaufman]

No nagging necessary, as I plan on returning to the friendly confines of Gottschalk on Tuesday afternoon. I'm fine, if a bit sedate, er, sedated at the moment. I have some soma-induced philosophical meditations to share, but I'll probably keep 'em to myself, as they're, well, soma-induced. But yes, after two evenings sleeping on the living room floor, my back feels a little better, but I'm still not very mobile, and I still can't twist. I can, however, read some comics gifted to me some months back, and have had the terrible realization that some comics I thought were smart are only so in memory, i.e. after I unconsciously eighty-six the suck.

As for the police situation, I think Belle's right, that I'll have to settle for cosmic justice. On Friday, I floated some pleasant scenarios: the motorist was slightly tipsy--there are two bars in the strip mall perpendicular to Albertson's--hit me, took off and is now wracked with guilt at the thought that they may've done me some serious damage. They'll canvas the stores, but no one will know anything. For the rest of their lives, they'll wonder if they are, in fact, a murderer/murderess. Maybe I did a little damage to their car, or that I got their license plate, and they'll flip out and spend hundreds of dollars to fix a little cosmetic damage, or repaint the entire car, or sell it at a lose and buy themselves some cheap replacement, which--their karma being what it is--immediately reveals itself to be a lemon, and leaves them stranded on the way to an important meeting, or Vegas, or the party at which they would've met the one and only person in the universe they'll ever be happy with. I could continue in this awesome vein, but I don't want people to think me bitter loopy.

[Timothy Burke]

You missed a scenario! The motorist is now hunting for you desperately because you damaged some paint on the car by impeding its backward passage, and they want to sue you for damages.

Or it was the guy you met who didn't believe you wrote for the Valve: he's actually a stalker.

I like yours better.

Sorry to hear about it, at any rate. Did you actually go to the doctor? Your reply above is evasive about that.

[Amardeep]

I don't like walking in parking lots for this reason, and I've become super-paranoid about reversing in them. There's always a limit as to how much you can see, even in a normal car.

Yikes.

[eb]

I can't tell if I should nag you to go to the doctor like others have above, or if I should be glad you've already gone.

A friend of mine in high school had a similar experience. He was hit by a car while riding his bike, didn't seem to be hurt, but then as the day went on his back got progressively worse until he had to get to the hospital. He made a full recovery.

[Scott Eric Kaufman]

Didn't mean to be circumspect up there: I've now been to the doctor twice, and just returned from having a full workup done. I'm feeling better--not good, but better--and I'll post an update indicating that, at the very least, I've reacquired my sense of humor. (It fled the apartment this weekend.)

[Mom]

It's niceto know you have more mother's out there to nag you to go seek medical aid. I don't feel so bad about calling you a bazillion times to go to the hospital. But as I was reading the responses about Karma a thought came to me - perhaps it was the "sex in my office" guy and he did not want another meeting with you and the "board". Who ever you are out there - Scott may not find you - but I will one way or the other !!!!!!!

[Timothy Burke]

When they make "Acephalous" into a movie, the scene where Scott's mom threatens vengeance against the driver who hit him is going to be box-office gold.