SHUT UP AND DRIVE

After our Halloween party, Mike and I piled in the car, exhausted and so ready to go home. But, since we live in West Hollywood - just minutes from the site of the GINORMOUS West Hollywood Halloween parade, the areas surrounding our house are bombarded by drunk, costumed, non permit holding parkers and insane crowds. In other words, our 3 mile jaunt home turned into a 30 minute extravaganza.  Since I was the one driving, this meant that Mike (who wasn't sober and thus sitting in the passenger seat) had to "back seat drive." The fact that I've been legally able to drive for the better part of 13 years or so doesn't matter whatsoever to my husband, who is, in his mind, THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN DRIVE, WHO KNOWS WHERE TO GO, WHO CAN EVADE TRAFFIC NO MATTER WHAT THE SITUATION...He is a driving superhero.

MIKE: "Go left here."

ME: "Why? If I take Burton Way, I can avoid all of the traffic on Beverly."

MIKE: "Burton's going to be a mess. Turn here."

ME: "Uggh! Why can't you just let me do what I want to do?!"

MIKE: "Because, I know the best way. Trust me."

I turn. There's so much traffic we can't move.

ME: "Seeeeeeee?!!!! I should never listen to you!"

MIKE: "Just make a u turn and take the side street."

ME: "That's insane! There are so many cars we'll never get through!"

MIKE: "Just trust me. I know what I'm talking about."

I take the side street. It's hell.

ME: "Goddammit!!!!!!!!!!! I told you!"

MIKE: "Whatever. Just do what you want. Don't listen to me."

ME: "That's it! If you give me directions one more time, I'm leaving you on this corner and you can get a ride with that guy over there in the Bill Clinton mask."

MIKE: "Fine."

ME: "Fine."

There's silence.

MIKE: "Turn here."

ME: "What?! Leave me alone! You're driving me f-ing CRAZY!" 

We stop at a light.

MIKE: "Why?! I'm just saying that if you take this street, you won't have to worry about the traffic on the other side and you can overshoot it!"

ME: "What are you talking about?! This is completely fine! I like where we are! I'm...staying...on...this...road...!!!!!!!"

MIKE: "You don't listen..."

ME: "You are completely crazy you know that? You can't just f-ing let a person...."

BAM! We get rear ended.

Our yelling stops. We look at each other and then back at the person who hit us with a typical, Los Angeles, "What the hell is wrong with you?" scowl. We pull over. The woman who's hit us is driving a late model Toyota and she's at least 55 years old-not your average West Hollywood parade attendee. She gets out of the car, and it's clear that she's, well, WASTED. Yup. In the middle of our ridiculous fight, we get hit by a middle aged drunk driver who's so pathetic that she starts sobbing before we can even get her information. Interestingly, my also tipsy husband who was so excellent at giving me directions, proceeds to take control of this situation.

MIKE: "Don't worry about it. It's just a tiny scratch, really. I can take it to my body shop and they'll probably fix it for, like, $200 dollars. We probably won't even have to go through insurance, you know? In fact, this happened to my mom too and she just brought her car in to the..."

I give Mike a death stare.

ME: "Be quiet."

I get the information we need, but for some reason (probably because she's drunk) this woman can't seem to find her insurance information. So, we follow her around the corner to her house to get it (could this situation be more bizarre?). She pulls into her driveway, and there we are, STILL DRESSED AS SARAH PALIN AND PEE WEE HERMAN, standing in front of her house. I'm poised, notebook in hand, taking down license plate info, etc. And then, this woman's husband arrives with their two teenage daughters, DRESSED AS BALLERINA PRINCESSES, sitting in the back of his car. 

THE HUSBAND: "What's going on?"

THE DRUNK WOMAN WHO HIT US: "Well, uh, we had a little fender bender."

And here's where I get the impression that this happens quite frequently.

THE HUSBAND: "I don't want to know about it! Just f-ing deal with it yourself."

Awesome.

THE DRUNK WOMAN WHO HIT US then bursts into tears, again. Then, between sobs, she flicks off her husband and screams, "You're such a f-ing asshole!" 

And there we are, still dressed as Sarah Palin and Pee Wee Herman...standing on her sidewalk, terrified that in 30 years, we'd turn out like them. Mike clutched my hand.

THE HUSBAND: "I'm not talking to you!"

THE DRUNK WOMAN WHO HIT US: "I'm so sorry honey. I'm I'm...I just wasn't paying attention. It won't happen again...I won't get into another car accident again."

Mike whispers to me, "This is kind of hilarious."

"I know," I whisper back. "They're crazy." Then, I thought about us hollering at each other at the red light. Getting rear ended was like listening to a record screech to a halt-there was such an overwhelming silence that it paralyzed us, forcing us to abandon our Mr. and Mrs. Bickerson identities and remember who we actually are--us...dressed as Sarah Palin and Pee Wee Herman. 

The teenage girls walk back outside.

TEENAGE GIRL: "Hey, are you Pee Wee Herman?"

Mike grinned and shot me a "That's right. Even a human being who wasn't alive during the Pee Wee's Playhouse era recognizes me" look. 

MIKE: "Yes, yes I am."

And just as I'm about to feel completely defeated by this entire night...

THE HUSBAND: "And you're Sarah Palin I take it?"

I shoot him a smile and a wink.

ME: "You betcha."

Comments

[Carolyn]

You know he's right on this one, What a guy. So what if he's a sleazy you know what! That Pee Wee knows how to do Halloween up right. So, what will you be next year? How about Miss Piggy? Everyone knows who she is.

Carolyn

[Kristina]

This is a good look for you!!

I actually got shoved by a policeman that night, after asking for directions. What gives?

I blame the Bridge and Tunnlers!!
GO BACK TO RIVERSIDE
LEAVE US BE!!!!