Okay, so if anyone knows me at all, they know that I've basically been on a diet since I was five-years-old for the most part. It's how I grew up. It's what women did. Food is not fuel, but rather an elaborate system of rewards and punishments, bla, bla, bla. That's not really the point of this post. I'm giving you background to the failed cookie mission, here. Needless to say, I'm probably on a diet right now. Meaning that I'm pretty anal-retentive about the amount of calories I consume in an average day. Two factors combined to trigger something in my brain that made me eat a very delicious dinner of chicken marsala and mashed potatoes this weekend, though.
1. I've decided that way too many people still think it's funny to make fun of overweight people. I mean, for all you know, they've just committed to trying to change their lives and there you are, sitting in judgment of them. It's like this with anything for the most part, though. Don't judge a person until you know the situation and even then, just don't judge a person. It's gross and it's unnecessary. I decided that I was going to refuse to conform to society's various stigmas, throw caution to the wind and have a very enjoyable meal.
2. I met my weight loss goal for the week and my sister makes the greatest chicken marsala this side of the Mississippi.
So we ate the dinner and afterwards, the Vajskop sisters wanted something sweet to round it off. After a weird amount of sleepy, full-bellied negotiations about this, it was determined by the lot of us that I was to go to the store for cookies.
So I went out into the sweltering heat of Ohio summer, got in the car and started leaving the apartment complex, only to be temporarily held up by a young girl strutting around the entrance of the complex. She didn't seem to have any idea my car was there, so I just sat there, not wanting to hit her and thinking that she'd better be careful or she'd get hurt. I don't live on a very busy street, but it's still pretty important to look for traffic when you're on foot. I thought I'd wait to turn until she was totally finished crossing and then I'd go forth and complete the cookie mission, but she never made it across. She was hit by a motorcycle. No, I am not kidding.
For the first few seconds, I thought I had imagined it, but after looking at it for more than five seconds, I realized that it was very much a real thing which had just happened. I learned yesterday, that my go-to swear word is "shit."
I parked and called 911. I called my sisters and told them that I couldn't go to the store. They came down to wait with me. And I learned a few things about humans yesterday.
1. For the most part, people will try to do anything they can to avoid injuring each other. I watched the driver spill a very-expensive bike in an attempt to not hit this girl. I watched as several people stopped to see if the people were okay and to direct traffic until the police got there. I witnessed how quickly EMT's and police officers work to get to the scene of an accident and how efficiently they triaged everyone before loading them into ambulances.
2. Even though I'm not the hugest fan of the police in general, most police officers are nice people who want good things for the world and unfortunately, there are a few rhoided-out jerks who ruin the image of the police for everyone. When I approaced an officer to let him know that I had witnessed the accident, he was very kind, not at all condescending or suspicious of my efforts to be helpful.
3. People love to gossip, to a very sick degree. When I was filling out my statement, there was one particularly aggressive gentleman who kept pushing me to tell him what happened and became even more aggressive when I didn't want to discuss it with him. Also, what started out as four or five people at the scene when it actually happened turned into thirty or forty people who did not know these people at all, but had no problem lookey-looing, getting in the way and loudly speculating about who they believed to be at fault in the situation.
4. My sisters are two of the most fantastic people in the world. When I had explained what happened, they both came running down to meet me and to make sure that I was okay and not too shaken up, which I thought was hilarious since I was not the one who had just gotten creamed in the middle of the road.
From what I was able to glean by talking to the police, the only major injury belonged to the motorcycle itself. The people likely went home last night, and that gave me a huge sense of relief.
Needless to say, the cookie mission was a failure, but talk about being in a particular place at a particular time.
The universe is weird.
