I felt it was my duty not to cause the poor EMTs any more heartache than I had already. Even when they told me that my car was not in a garage, but rather in someone’s living room, and that it had made its uninvited entrance therein through a pair of plate glass doors, I strove to maintain my composure. Even when I looked down at my shirt and realized it was red, and further ascertained that the redness came from a profusely bleeding head wound, I remained remarkably calm. I tried to make jokes, answer questions lucidly, and exude as much cheer as possible. After they assured me that no one else was hurt, thus allaying my first and worst fear, I remember feeling it was deeply important that they understand how “fine” I was. In an amazingly short time (shout-out to the Fayetteville, NC emergency response folks!), the living room was full of paramedics and police officers, all very concerned about the condition and location of me and my vehicle. I grabbed my purse and my scarf (priorities, ladies) and climbed out through the passenger side door to go in search of answers.Ī very nice lady found me and led me into her apartment. I think it was at this point that the words “car accident” began to take shape in my brain. I tried to open my door, but it was jammed shut.
Was I drugged?Īnd then, with an even greater sinking sensation: I’m going to be late to rehearsal… Did I fall asleep at the wheel? I speculated dazedly. Disoriented, I dimly guessed that I was inside a garage, and began to wonder – with a horribly sinking feeling – how I had gotten there. It was dark, but I could dimly see that my car was inside a building of some kind. The next thing I knew, I was waking up, still strapped into Percy’s driver’s seat. I saw what I took to be an opening in the oncoming two lanes and made my bold move into the center turning lane. You just need to be aggressive, I thought. As soon as possible.) Turning left out of my neighborhood is a bit tricky, particularly during heavy traffic and particularly after dark, but I’d accomplished it successfully so many times that I was confident in my abilities.
(If you haven’t read The Scarlet Pimpernel …do.
Dinner in tow, I sallied forth to rehearsal in my beloved Percy, a 2006 Toyota Corolla, which was blessed with a dynamic duo of namesakes: Percy Jackson, because of its deep-ocean-blue color and Sir Percy Blakeney, because…reasons. Ergo, on this particular Thursday, I followed the steps of my lifelong stress-dance automatically, blithely unaware that the music was about to come to a grinding (*literally*) halt.
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