To tell the truth, this has absolutely nothing to do with being happy. Rather, it struck me as rather funny in a weird way.
So I’m driving - at breakneck speed without speeding of course – I’ve been well-trained by what I consider to be more than my fair share of the tickets being handed out by the unnecessarily LARGE number of cops in this neat, trim, safe, tidy, well-behaved Pleasantville of a town. I’m on my way to an interview, and judging by my five-minutes-fast wrist watch, as well as my new-found respect for the law, I figure I’m going to be two minutes – maybe three or four at most - late. O.k. maybe five. I HATE being late.
Driving west on 36, I’ve got most of my attention focused in my peripheral vision, noting that the suburban on my right has lost track of the center line and is uncomfortably close to me.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a small, perfectly round, white object, floating ever so gently into my line of vision, and descending, almost in slow motion, towards my windshield. Naturally I wondered if the car next to me had ripped their head out of their a—(ahem) I mean cell phone – long enough to see what I was seeing.
Well, I didn’t have more than two seconds to wonder. The words “gee that almost looks like a golf ball” had no sooner filtered into my brain, when the damn thing shattered the entirety (almost) of my windshield.
“F*cking hell,” I say aloud, as I hightail it to my next chance to take a quick U-ey at the next stop light and haul ass down Frontage Road to see what f*cking imbecile was taking pop shots at the hwy. Well, turns out there was indeed a golf course there. (surprise surprise – doesn’t Minnesota have the highest number of golf courses in the nation – maybe the world – possibly even the entire flipping universe?)
I rip into the lobby thinking “goddamnit I’m going to be late but someone is going to have hell to pay,” contact the manager, escort him outside toward my car, and the damn fool expertly diverted me immediately to an unkempt little row of teenage golfers hitting balls in exactly the opposite direction of the highway. They looked like a slobbed-out chorus line of naive juveniles placed ever so strategically as to avert just such a disturbance as myself. No matter that there is an entire golf course that runs alongside the Frontage Road and the highway, well beyond this docile little row of novice Jr. Golfers.
The manager says in a (might I add) well-rehearsed, too-quick, overly cheerful voice, “well judging by the looks of this, (nodding to the golfers) the mathematical probability that you were hit by a golf ball is impossible.”
WTF?!
I’m like, “Uh, This is a golf course, I was hit by a golf ball, what the HELL does mathematical probability have to do with anything in that equation?” Dipshit.
Anyways…What was funny, was after I was pulling out of the driveway on my way to my interview, I had no sooner turned onto the road, when a damn bird flew straight at my windshield at real breakneck speed, veering off at the last minute, missing my already shattered windshield by not more than a quarter of an inch AT MOST, actually almost flying into my open window in the process. I could hear the brrr of it’s wings. Thank God my windshield had already shattered – the shatter marks were probably the only things that saved that bird’s life.
Now you see, if I had been speeding - even just a little - I’d have avoided that whole mess altogether.
Anyways, the good news is, I was only 8 minutes late for my interview, and my insurance will cover the windshield. The weird thing is, that’s the third (and fourth – counting the near-hit of the bird) object to hit my windshield in the last month. The bizarre thing is, when the first thing (a sizeable rock) hit my windshield a month ago, the first thought that popped into my mind was, “I’m going to lose my job.”
Am I psychic …or paranoid? I don’t know, but just in case, I think I might consider wearing a helmet next time I embark on any mission having anything to do with the idea of work, or getting a job.
…Or maybe I should start speeding again.
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