Nikki had asked me if I wanted to go to the Randolph Country Club, which is a gay establishment that holds club nights on the weekends. I originally said no because I planned on going out tomorrow night.
But then I realized that I'd be better off going out tonight and getting my sleep tomorrow night before the work week. I didn't particularly care to launch the week in a sleep-deprived stupor as I did the previous one.
So I called Nikki and said I'd like to go out. Since she did the driving last night, I told her we'd take my car and she'd be responsible for getting the directions.
I arrived at her place by 11:30 and she'd forgotten to find out how to get there. So I waited while she called her uncle, wrote out our driving instructions, and put on her shoes.
Then we set out for Randolph. It had been storming all evening, but by this time the rain subsided. Ugh. It was misty, humid and just plain yucky.
The directions were so confusing, Nikki had to call her uncle back twice while we were driving. But the absolute worst was when we were following this nightmare of a street called "Pleasant Street." A huge contradiction of terms, if you ask me.
It was weird, veering off here and there and had sudden stops. We came to a sign that had a little curve with an arrow that said "Pleasant St."
"Do we want to veer left, or keep going straight?" I asked Nikki.
"When I spoke to my uncle, he said we don't take any turns and go straight the whole time."
I continued forward, but I was weirded out. It was pitch black. We were totally in a residential neighborhood. I drove slow, looking for street signs.
Next thing I know I see a pile of small boulders and a basketball pole that had been knocked backwards directly in front of me. I slam on the brakes, feel the car shake as the anti-lock kicked in. The road was wet from all the rain, so we slid a teeny bit.
As soon as the car stopped, I threw it in park and crossed my arms over the steering wheel, burying my face in my forearms. I let out a huge breath, looked at Nikki, and began hysterically laughing. She let out a shaky breath of her own and began laughing as well.
Apparently we should have veered left. And by the looks of the slanted basketball pole, we weren't the first ones to have made this mistake.
So after a few more exciting miles of driving, missed turns, and swearing, we found the club. We pulled up and something didn't look right. There were hardly any cars and it was dark.
Nikki got out and went to see what was up. According to a guy on the front steps, the storm knocked the power out, so the club was closed for the evening. Well, wasn't that just great?!? After all that...
So I gave Liz a call to see what she was up to because I had to drop Nikki back at her house, which was 3 minutes from Liz's. She was just getting home, so I decided to go visit her.
As soon as we hung up our phones, Nikki and I realized we had no clue how to get back to JP after that whole mess of getting there. As we both were pondering what to do to find our way, my cell phone rang. It was Liz.
"I just realized I should have asked you, do you know how to get to JP from Randolph?"
I burst out laughing. "No, not at all. I can't believe you knew to call me and ask me that...!" Can I tell you how much I adore this woman?
Liz explained the way and we were off.
We got on a road called 203 which took us through a sketchy part of an area called Dorchester. As we were cruising along, actually going pretty slow because we were watching for signs, an idiot in a maroon Corsica pulls out in front of my car horizontally from a lot and then stops.
I stomped on the brakes while honking my horn. If I had been going any faster I'd have hit him. We were coming around a curve, that's why I got so angry. I'm actually a mellow driver and rarely touch my horn.
It was clear the driver was making a left turn. There was no traffic coming the other way, so he could have gone. But instead of continuing, he stopped his car. This infuriated me, so I honked again, bringing the car to a complete stop. The guy puts his car in park and goes to reach in his coat pocket.
Alarmed, I begin imagining all sorts of things he could be reaching for. I immediately try to go around behind him. Noticing my attempt, he puts his car in reverse and blocks me. At this point I'm inches from his car.
He removes his seatbelt and reaches into his coat again. We had just passed a police station and in my fit of panic, my high school driver's ed classes came echoing back in my mind...
"If at any time another driver becomes threatening or you feel in danger, do anything you can to get attention. Drive to the nearest police station. If you don't know where that is, do anything that will make people stop and notice you, causing your predator to hopefully leave you alone."
During the last part of this dialogue, the instructor flashed the projector to a slide of a woman in a horrible wood paneled station wagon from the 70's. She was on the front lawn of some guys house, right in front of the porch.
The next slide showed the house's owner, clad in bell-bottomed plaid golf pants, a white turtle neck, and the biggest pork chop shaggy sideburns I'd ever seen running out of the house, arms flailing.
The next slide showed a close up of the woman looking behind her. Her would-be attacker was nowhere to be seen. Mission accomplished.
In the split second that memory flashed through my mind, I threw the car in reverse, tires squealing, and drove the half block backwards to the police station. The station was on a turn that merged with the road we'd been driving on, so I went a little passed the curve, threw the car in drive, and fishtailed right in front of the station.
The guy followed us! He got out of the car and came running over. I locked the doors and said to Nikki, "Oh my God, he's crazy! We're in front of the police station and he's still coming! What do I do??"
The guy gets to my window and motions for me to open it. I shake my head "no" while saying, "No way!"
He opened his coat, flashing a police badge at me. Nikki says, "Oh my God, it's a cop!"
I open my window and the man starts screaming at me in a thick Jamaican accent. He accused me of being a reckless driver, trying to kill him!
"What in da hell were you doing? If you'd have hit me, you'd have killed me!"
"What??" I gasped. "You pulled out in front of me and stopped. That was dangerous! It was lucky I wasn't going fast or I'd have hit you for sure!"
"No, you were speeding," he yells.
"No, sir, I was *not*," I said. I kept my voice calm, but firm. At this point we had quite the crowd of onlookers.
"You were. And you honk da horn wildly, disturbing da peace. Then you drive backwards like a maniac."
"Yeah," I said. "You scared me. You stop and reach for your pocket. I have no idea what you were going to do."
"I made you nervous? You da one who almost killed me!"
"No," I insisted. "I wasn't going fast because I don't know this neighborhood. Then you back up and block me, I had no idea what you were going to do. I was taught to get the police any way I can if I feel I'm in danger. We're two young girls by ourselves. I wasn't taking any chances."
He yells at me to "turn dis vehicle around and go home."
Shaking my head, I backed up and turned around. I could not believe what had just happened to me. Nikki and I looked at each other.
"What the hell just happened?" I asked. I was so glad I had someone with me for that. Obviously he was in the wrong and knew it, if he simply ordered me to go home. What a nut case!
This made me even more nervous because I've heard stories about psycho cops who can make it their business to ruin your life. Or at least do their best to make you suffer to some degree.
What a night. My heart pounded for the rest of the drive. We got to Nikki's and I put my head on the steering wheel when I stopped the car. Then, out of nowhere, I started laughing. Not just a hearty "ha ha ha," but great guffawing, breath-sputtering "ah-HAHAHAHA's." My eyes even watered.
I couldn't believe the drive we'd just had. We hugged each other good-bye and I somehow made it over to Liz's. I got out of the car on wobbly legs and walked to the front door.
She let me in and I sat on her couch, petting Francis as I told her about my night. She just stared at me incredulously. I still couldn't believe what had taken place.
I began to relax as I played with Lulu and Francis. Liz and I chatted for a while and about half hour later, 2:15 a.m., I decided to go. I had a busy day ahead.
She offered for me to stay over because she could tell I was still pretty shaken. I said, "no thank you." Then we considered why it'd be easier, but I didn't have my glasses or contacts case, and she had no clean sheets or anything either. We decided it'd be simpler if I just went home.
That was a relief to me for a myriad of reasons, besides the stated ones.
I drove home slowly and here I sit, trying to calm down even more. I was too wound up to sleep when I arrived home, hence why I'm up at this ridiculous hour for a third night in a row.
Needless to say I will most definitely *not* be going out tomorrow night. Er, I mean, tonight, considering it's already Sunday...