Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Why I Hate Bambi

I hate Bambi.  And I don't even feel bad about it.  Until 48 hours ago, I was the person who always felt bad for deer; you know, what with the always getting shot at and such. And then one decided it would be a good plan to run out in front of me and cause me to hit it at 65mph, killing my beloved (and recently paid off) car, Feivel.

Okay, in fairness, Feivel killed the deer too, but the deer started it!!

Here's how it went down:

As I was driving home from a work meeting to discuss starting Bingolicious in Dubuque (Drag Queen Bingo in a VERY Catholic town to support Planned Parenthood...yeah, seriously.  That's how I roll.), I was obsessively scanning the ditches for deer because I'm terrified of hitting one.  About 20 miles from home and 10 miles to the city limits and out of imminent deer-hitting danger, I started up a hill in the right lane (because I know how to drive and if you aren't passing, your happy little butt shouldn't be in the left lane!!) and then BAM! I saw it as I was hitting it --- a huge deer in a full speed run across the highway directly in my path. 

There was no time to do anything but scream, which really helped me to follow the rules of not swerving or braking.  There was a loud thump, and over the deployed airbag in my chest/face, I watched the deer fly up the hood of my car towards me as the metal crumpled like a sheet of paper before miraculously flipping hooves-over-head off of my poor Feivel and onto the shoulder.  Meanwhile (still screaming), I somehow managed to steer the car over to the shoulder while there was a little visibility left through the now smoking heap of crumpled parts that used to be my prized possession of a car.

Freaked the FREAK out, I composed myself enough to check for bleeding, grab my phone off the charger (I will never again drive anywhere without my phone on the charger.  After the impact, it was the only thing in the car besides me that was near its rightful place.), pick up my purse, and get the heck out of the smoking vehicle. With one foot out the door, I couldn't figure out why the car was still moving.  'OMG!', I thought, 'the brakes aren't working!  What do I do?  What do I do?!'  Turned out I forgot to put the car in park.  Once I figured that part out, the rest was a bit of a blur...

Standing in the glow of the one remaining headlight, I called my sister Tammy and she somehow pieced my jumbled words together and told me to call 9-1-1 and that she was on her way.  Meanwhile, a very nice woman stopped to see if I was alright, complimented me on the size of the deer that I killed (only in Iowa!), hugged me, told me I did everything right except that I got out of the car (ummm, hello?!  It was smoking!! When I told her that was why I got out, she asked me if it was the radiator making the smoke.  I just stared blankly at her, looked down at my Vera Wang dress and high heels, and gave her a minute to piece together that I am not the kind of girl who even knows what a radiator does, let alone have the ability to determine if it is smoking or not.  Turns out that it was the radiator and  it was safe to get in the car, but I refused so we stood way off in the ditch away from the road.), and waited with me until the police officer arrived.

Enter Officer Smell Good.  No, I didn't flirt or slip him my business card (Cute Guitar Guy really did a number on this girl!), but I did tell him he smelled good. Straight to the point, he told me that I did everything perfectly and that had I hit my brakes, Bambi would have come through my windshield and I'd have had a 400lb dead deer in my face. He said he had never seen a car so little hit a deer so big without spinning, flipping, or ejecting someone.  Comfort not exactly his strong spot, I see. After making sure I was physically okay, he helped me grab all of my necessary papers and sat me in his cruiser with the heat on blast to warm me up while he wrote his report.  This didn't take terribly long...

Yes, that's his entire report.  'Car vs. Deer', the highway, and the mile marker.  Apparently Officer Smell Good is a straight to the point kind of guy.  Supplementary information for this conclusion to be found in subsequent paragraph below.

Moments later, sister Tammy arrived to save me and nearly ran over the dead carcas of deer.  For the record, it would have deserved a second hit.  After hugs and kisses and sweet reassurances that I didn't do anything wrong, and making sure I didn't breathe in too many fumes from the airbag (could she BE more of a mom?!), she helped me unload my belongings into her car and was such a huge help answering the frantic calls from family members who I was in no shape to coherently speak to.  At one point, she must have handed my phone back to me, because I vaguely remember the following conversation:

Me into the phone: '...(sob) (all one word) rightinfront...(sob)...'
Tammy: 'Honey, who are you talking to?'
Me: 'R...R....(sob)'
Tammy: (reaching for phone) 'Honey, WHO are you talking to?'
Me: 'R...Ry...Ryan...Do you need to talk to him??'
Tammy: 'No sweetheart, I just need to know who to call to translate for when you're done.'

By some miracle, he actually understood most of what I said and after I shot down his insisting that he come get me, he conceded to leave me with Tammy under the agreement that I called him as soon as I was home so he could come over and comfort me.

Paperwork done and tow truck on its way, Officer Smell Good gave his condolences on the car and wished us a good night.  I had told Tammy that I was pretty sure the car was totaled, but being the good sister she is, she tried to get some hope from the man on the scene:

Tammy: 'Do you think the car might have any chance of being fixed?'
Officer Smell Good: (LITERALLY laughing out loud) 'No.'

Well, guess that settles that.

Fast forward through lots of hugs, some tylenol for the pain (those airbags are no joke!), and several texts checking on me, Sister brought me home and dropped me off knowing that Cute Guitar Guy was on his way to take his shift on the Heidi Is An Emotional Wreck tour.  Less than 10 minutes later, he was standing in my kitchen hugging me and telling me how beautiful I looked (I didnt even have to teach him that trick - he just knew it!), even though he had been fighting a 100+* fever for 7 days and was in no shape to be anyone's caretaker.  He managed to convince me to change into my pajamas, put my hair in a pony tail, and snuggle up next to him under a blanket on the couch.  Sick, dehydrated, and exhausted, he spent the next three hours catering to my every need and being the sweetest support system ever until I was settled down enough to sleep.

Sore, shaken, and sad, I spent my lunch hour today cleaning out and saying goodbye to Feivel. I was so proud of how well I was keeping myself together until I saw this on my visor:

"A guardian angel to watch over you"

After seeing the wreckage again in the daylight and having a couple of days to process everything, I have never been more convinced that there was indeed a guardian angel watching over me Monday night.  In fact, I'm sure there were a few.  So a VERY special thank you goes out to Uncle Buzzard Beak, Miss Helen, Momma Kaye, Bobby, Grandmas, Grandpa, and Uncle Larry for whoever was on duty.  Not to seem ungrateful, but for all future near-untimely-death incidents, I'd appreciate you just moving the deer (or whatever is about to kill me) completely out of my way instead of letting me hit it. It would save me a lot of hassle.  Just saying.

Another big thank you goes out to Feivel; for the adventures, the endless top-of-my-lungs singing during the adventures, and for protecting me so well when all logic says there's no way you could have.  You will be missed!

1 comment:

Ashley said...

Oh, my dear friend! I hate bambi, too! So glad you're safe! Ironically, you were just saying how you've had nothing much to blog about.