Tuesday, May 30, 2006


Days like yesterday are what blogs are made for. Let me start at the beginning.

The weekend started off great. I went to Birmingham on Wednesday night in order to be at events for one of my best friend's wedding on Thursday morning. I was so happy that Ticks (my nickname for Taylor Hicks) won American Idol. Then I got to go to a mansion/the nicest home I've ever been in and lay out all day Thursday with the bride, her sister, cousin, and another bridesmaid. We had a great time. Thursday evening, the bride's sister had a bachelorette party at her apartment and so we enjoyed wine, funfetti cake and rotel before heading out to some sketchy night club in downtown Birmingham. One of the girls at the party knew the DJ and so she got us in for free, which was music to my ears, so off we went.

The next day was the bridesmaids luncheon, where we enjoyed Taziki's (my favorite food in Birmingham) and the company of the bride and her family. She gave a short speech about all of us and what we meant to her, using candy to describe the relationship. My candy was a pack of warheads and gum: warheads, because the bride and I used to hate each other. From K4 until junior high, we did not get along at all. In fact, if you'd asked me 10 years ago whether I'd be AT, not to mention IN, her wedding, I'd have laughed at you. Anyway, things changed in ninth grade and that's when we became friends, hence the gum, because gum is longlasting and sweet and relaxing/comforting/familiar, like our friendship is now! That night was the rehearsal and dinner, which was equally fun. The bride's dad prepared a video of the bride and groom's lives and it was fun to watch.

Then, of course, Saturday was the wedding. The day was perfect. The bride looked RADIANT, just like the Twila Paris song describes, and she and the groom were glowing the whole day. The reception was amazing, I had a great time with my date, I caught the bouquet (no, I will NOT be the next to get married) and just had an all around great time. I was actually sad when I woke up Sunday because I had come off the euphoria that I was in. You know how when you look forward to something for so long, like the senior prom or your best friend's wedding, and then when it's over, you get kind of depressed? Same thing. That, plus I was once again conscious of the fact that I am nowhere near planning a wedding of my own, even though I would like to very much. To sum it up: I was blue.

That is when you might say the weekend hit a turning point.

On Sunday, I was out shopping with my mom and sister for stuff for my sister's new house when I noticed my back left tire was a little low. My mom and sister advised me to go get air put in it, so I did. Then I went home and packed up all my stuff and got it ready to load my car. There was a ton of stuff to pack since I was moving into my apartment in Nashville the next day.

On Monday, I woke up in an empty house since my mom was spending the day in Atlanta for her birthday. I loaded the last of my stuff into my car with NO room to spare, took a quick shower, ate lunch and went to visit my grandad. I hit the road for Nashville at about 1 o'clock, which is later than I had intended to leave, but not so late that I would get there after dark or wouldn't get everything unpacked, so I didn't care.

I decided I was having a bad day when, about 20 miles outside of Birmingham, I noticed that I'd only been on the road 30 minutes and already I was down a quarter tank of gas, even though I had just filled up my car when I left my grandad's. I chalked it up to the overhwhelmingly hot day and the insane amount of cargo I was carrying, but was pissy nonetheless because I was/am tired of paying for gas. I have about 4 or 5 things that need to get paid for by the end of the week and more gas is not high on the list.

I had just come over a hill somewhere in Cullman when my radar detector went off. I braked and notice that I had been going faster than I'd meant to, since A. I had just come over a hill and had my foot heavy on the gas, and B. my car was filled to the tippytop with my stuff, therefore accelerating down the hill a little faster. I slowed down anyway and didn't think much else of it, since it was by far not the fastest I've ever gone on 65, and incorrectly assumed that since he was going southbound (and holding up about 50 cars behind him since no one wanted to pass him) he wouldn't bother turning around to get me.

Well of course, that is exactly what he did. Flashing blue lights appear in my side mirror out of literally nowhere. I wasn't even sure it was the same cop since I did not even see him turn around or catch up to me. Immediately I start crying, which I try not to do because I've heard it angers cops even more, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I prayed that he would ask me to rearrange my stuff so I could have a rear view or something, or at least notice all the crap in my car and feel sorry for me and just give me a warning.

He came around and asked for my license, but not proof of insurance. He told me how fast I was going (which again, is not the fastest I have ever gone on 65). He took my license and walked to his car and sat. At that point, I knew he was going to give me a ticket because A. he was not polite B. would be informed about my previous speeding tickets from the dispatcher. I haven't had a lot, but I did just get one in December, and I assume that when you get pulled over again 6 months later THEY assume you haven't learned your lesson and give you another ticket just to make you mad.

I contemplate trying to reason with him about how I'd just come over the hill and my car had so much stuff in it, but with my luck for the day, he would have done something else to me for not being able to see out the back of my car or something. I signed my ticket while crying and didn't say one word back to him.

Well, as I speed up to get back on the interstate, so do my tears. I don't know why I was crying so much! Again, not the first ticket I've ever gotten and probably not the last. I'm lucky I got one THEN instead of the times I was going +90. I looked at the ticket and noticed that the smart @$$ cop wrote on there that I was using a radar detector and was not able to see out the rear of my car. My anger boiled over, though, when I saw that he failed to tell me - but made sure to include on the ticket - that at the time he caught me speeding, I was in a 55 zone. This made me extra angry because I don't know why the limit there is so low. It's the interstate, for crying out loud. Unless there are workers present, isn't the limit 70? Speaking of workers, there were of course NO workers present, as it was Memorial Day. If I am charged double or extra or whatever because of that, I will meet Officer Smart@$$ in court to contest it.

I cry for about another hour as I call my parents, who both are glad I wasn't in a wreck as my crying led them to believe. They both graciously offer to help pay for it and remind me it was bound to happen eventually on 65 as many times as I've driven it now. I also call my friends and ask them to pray that I will not get struck by lightening or get stuck in the elevator at my apartment or any other calamity/misfortune in which fate could engage me that day.

I eventually arrive in Nashville and go by my dad's house to get my key to my apartment, which my landlord has mailed to his house. My dad follows me to the apartment and helps me get everything in the elevator and upstairs. I make my bed and begin setting up house when two of my guy friends that live in Nasvhille call me to hang out. I was excited to show off my apartment and spend some time with them so I invite them to meet me at my place. They come upstairs and we decide where to go for dinner. On the same block as my apartment is a Chili's, Logan's, and about 4 or 5 other restaurants. But for some reason, we decide to take my car over to our favorite pizza place rather than walk anywhere.

We get about halfway to Pizza Perfect when all three of us decide that the thudding we're hearing is not coming from a motorcycle, another car, or any source other than my own vehicle. I pull over somewhere on Vandy's campus, and as soon as I turn the car off, it hit me: that stupid back left tire. I knew it was flat before I even got out of the car.

Sure enough, it was. I started laughing because I remembered telling two of my friends, including my roommate as of Friday, that if one more thing went wrong that day I was moving back home. I did not want to deal with any more problems alone. Luckily I didn't have to, since my two super kind, crowbar weilding friends hit the pavement in their Polos and khakis and changed the tire for me. BOYS ARE SO HANDY LIKE THAT! They knew exactly what to do and were great sports. My favorite part of the situation was joking that the AU grad and the Bama grad were working so well together, and that we PR folks (all three of are PR majors, coincidentally) could have great back-up careers in automotive repair should our jobs ever fall through... or when we decide we'd actually like to make significant money, since PR isn't the most well-paying career. Todd said it was an extension of Better Relations Day 2006. Plus, after watching them... and taking pictures... I am confident that I now could change my tire if it ever again goes flat. I cannot imagine the hell I would have raised if I discovered that flat tire this morning on my way to work, or if it blew out and went flat while I was on the interstate. What are the odds of all of that happening in one day? I hate that my attitude was so rotten over a few bad circumstances, but in my life, when it rains, it tends to POUR.

I hope that yesterday is the worst day I'll have for a while. My wallet and I can't handle too much more misfortune. I think I should sell my car and get a bike. I wouldn't get any more speeding tickets, and I bet a flat tire would not cost as much. AND THINK OF THE MONEY I WOULD SAVE ON GAS!

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