I mentioned in my last post that we had some drama on the night of my birthday. Well, let's just say it involved our car (again), a police paddywagon (again), and an extremely intoxicated man by the name of Gigi. No lie, his name is Gilbert and he goes by Gigi. My mom has a dog named Gigi...I digress. We were having dessert and heard a bang. We didn't really think of a car accident, because usually you hear the brakes screaching before the big "BANG." But if you're wasted (or pissed as the Brits say) you don't brake. Not at all. So, we look outside, and sure enough 'ole Gigi hit our car going about 40 mph...no brakes. We get downstairs lightening fast, thank goodness because he was doing his best to get away. I say this lightly because he couldn't even find his door handle to open his door. He was pi
ssed. Both of his airbags had deployed, and he had an open beer in his door for easy access. Nice. Finally, the cops and ambulance showed up. We are starting to feel chummy with cops, but not sure if it's a good or bad thing just yet. The paramedics die laughing at their attempts to get Gigi out of his car, and then became frustrated when he refused treatment. Our landlord was doing her best to get him to go the hospital, but all he cared about was his car...which was totalled. Finally, he decided to go in the ambulance, but they were already driving off. In frustration, he decided to drunk push the cop...which did not go over well. All I heard were some very hasty "Monsieur's" and Gigi was thrown against the van, then face first on the concrete. He didn't even make a so
und, didn't even feel it. It was great to be front row, I have to say. They dragged him to a police car, handcuffed, and then drove away, with Gigi standing up in the backend trying to get out. A man in his mid-forties completely defaced in front of the whole neighborhood. I have little to no sympathy! Stephen, however, was able to have round two in the paddywagon. This time, our landlord Debra helped out. I was nervous we weren't going to have a car for our trip to Paris the next morning, but we were able to get a tow truck to tow our car and give us a rental...a PT CRUISER. Hey, at least it's not a minivan. Needless to say, it was dramatic, sad, exciting, and I would venture to say better than the "Iceman vs. Tito" fight I had on my last birthday!
I mentioned in my last post that we had some drama on the night of my birthday. Well, let's just say it involved our car (again), a police paddywagon (again), and an extremely intoxicated man by the name of Gigi. No lie, his name is Gilbert and he goes by Gigi. My mom has a dog named Gigi...I digress. We were having dessert and heard a bang. We didn't really think of a car accident, because usually you hear the brakes screaching before the big "BANG." But if you're wasted (or pissed as the Brits say) you don't brake. Not at all. So, we look outside, and sure enough 'ole Gigi hit our car going about 40 mph...no brakes. We get downstairs lightening fast, thank goodness because he was doing his best to get away. I say this lightly because he couldn't even find his door handle to open his door. He was pi
ssed. Both of his airbags had deployed, and he had an open beer in his door for easy access. Nice. Finally, the cops and ambulance showed up. We are starting to feel chummy with cops, but not sure if it's a good or bad thing just yet. The paramedics die laughing at their attempts to get Gigi out of his car, and then became frustrated when he refused treatment. Our landlord was doing her best to get him to go the hospital, but all he cared about was his car...which was totalled. Finally, he decided to go in the ambulance, but they were already driving off. In frustration, he decided to drunk push the cop...which did not go over well. All I heard were some very hasty "Monsieur's" and Gigi was thrown against the van, then face first on the concrete. He didn't even make a so
und, didn't even feel it. It was great to be front row, I have to say. They dragged him to a police car, handcuffed, and then drove away, with Gigi standing up in the backend trying to get out. A man in his mid-forties completely defaced in front of the whole neighborhood. I have little to no sympathy! Stephen, however, was able to have round two in the paddywagon. This time, our landlord Debra helped out. I was nervous we weren't going to have a car for our trip to Paris the next morning, but we were able to get a tow truck to tow our car and give us a rental...a PT CRUISER. Hey, at least it's not a minivan. Needless to say, it was dramatic, sad, exciting, and I would venture to say better than the "Iceman vs. Tito" fight I had on my last birthday!
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