collected recollections

Water Rage on US-1

I was returning from Tony Roma’s–a Miami mainstay of ribs, much like Damon’s in Columbus–when the rage began.  The driver of the car I was in signaled and merged into the left lane, eliciting an indignant honk from the red SUV.  Apparently affronted by our merging, he changed lanes, sped up and merged into our lane, slowing down after doing so.  In an attemptto prevent an accident, our driver changed lanes and a tag game of lane changing began.  At some point, the driver of the red SUV, apparently upset at the situation, rolled up next to our car and yelling: “You think that’s funny?!!! You think that’s funny??!!!!!!” threw an open water bottle into our car, dousing me in water and hitting the driver as well.

While I’m a non-confrontational individual by nature, I do harbor intense and often latent emotional responses of vengeance–an aspect of myself that I don’t relish.  I was at first shocked by the interaction but slowly warmed up into vengeance mode.  It’s shameful, I know; but at some point I wondered what it would be like to “know” someone who “knew” someone who knew how to make certain things happen.  Cause if that was possible red SUV driver would be missing a few of his favorite digits.

Dang!  Remind me to never have my car window down if a car starts honking behind me–no matter what vehicle I’m in!
BTW, it’s 4:06AM and for those of you who aren’t sure…I’m not making any of these entries up…they’re all real, all strange…Miami Minutes


Blowout on 95

Driving home (from dropping off a friend after we got our groove on at Cafe Iguana) last Saturday, a black sports car driving between 100-120mph blew by me, crossed over and blew a tire.  The car propelled off into the exit lane, hit the wall, bounced off and turned around so it was facing oncoming traffic.  Part of the front half of the car tore off and the car started smoking.  A thin man flew out of the driver’s side and started running away from the car.  Lucky for him, there were only two other cars ahead of him and me behind him.

I tried to call 911 but my cell phone’s battery had run out.  I drove quickly to the next exit where I found a copper and informed him of what I just saw.  However, the copper surely didn’t want to do a single thing!  He looked tired and grumpy and asked me multiple times to describe the situation before he finally, reluctantly put his car into gear and drove off.

Dang!  What a city!

CSI: Miami

As I walked up the second flight of stairs to my apt, my brain processed something my eye had seen–blood.  Drops of it.  Almost perfectly circular splotches of blood dripped onto the cement floor of the steps and the landings–from the first floor ascending up to the 4th.  Or was it the other way around?  The blood was closest to the wall–so maybe the person was wounded on their left upper extremity and was holding his/her arm?  Or maybe it was somebody carrying somebody else?  The splotches were between six inches to a foot from one another, too regular to be anything but a nasty flesh wound.  Some of the blood was dripped onto the spaces between the steps.  A bullet?  A knife?  A bad argument?  An act of passion?  A premeditated act of violence?

The blood was spilled between Thursday and Saturday sometime.  By whom?  Who knows.  I followed the trail to the curb whre it unceremoniously ended.  Probably a waiting vehicle.  Probably NOT destined for the hospital.

Nothing like dripping blood to bring you back to earth.   To cement the thin line between sanctity and sin.  To remind you of your own frailty, of the frailty of life itself, of the eternal protection of a loving God who shields you from the seedier aspects of life. 

A few days later I came home to find a real live CSI-Miami van parked outside in the lot.

About papillion

Intense Often Moody Transparent Exquisitely sensitive Animated Never satisfied Curious Eternal Romantic Creative Devotedly Christian Encouraging Multi-layered Loving Quick Judge Critical Forever evolving View all posts by papillion

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