3rd time was a real charmer

Close to a year after the first two hit-and-attempt-to-runs, we apparently still have not learned our lesson.

3 a.m. Friday morning: we hear a large THWAP! sound outside. We all jump out of our beds, like little kids on some twisted version of Christmas day, knowing instinctively what's in store.

Another one of our cars was victimized by another terrible driver. And while we knew what to expect before we even opened the front door, we never could've predicted what the drunk-driving fairy had left on our door step this time around.

Outside, we find our main character -- a girl who has just managed to wedge the nose of her Nissan under the back bumper of Patrick's large and in charge Tahoe. She opens the scene by puking out her driver-side door and all over her deployed airbags. Her "friend" is there to help... her "friend" who had not-so wisely decided to follow her home. He asks her if she's okay and if she wants to get out of the car to which she responds, "yeah... yeah. Ok... I should probably get up now." Groggily. As if he'd just woken her up from a deep realm of REM. She then makes the astute suggestion that they "should probably just go on back to his place now." It is at this point we know standing barefoot, in robes, out in the freezing cold will totally be made worth the price of admission.

The five of us stood in our spectator's row of a driveway, mouths agape. We'd seen people hit, we'd even seen people unsuccessfully run from our victim cars, but we'd never seen any violators so obviously sloshed as this young bar-crawler.

Cut to the late-as-usual cops arriving on the scene to gather details from the accident. They ask the standard questions -- her age, her registration, her eye color. To which she notably responds that her eyes are in fact a shade of "doo doo brown."

Hmmmm....

Now, if I were a cop, and not even a very good one, I would take this as reason enough to whip out the trusty ole breathalyzer. But that was just not so with this observant gentleman of the law. Instead, he comes to question Patrick, who's just rolled out of bed at the sound of his car being plowed into, to see if he might somehow be at fault.

Finally we convince the cop that, since the girl has all but taken a swig from a half empty handle of whiskey right in front of us, perhaps the next step would be to see what caused her to run into a stationary truck, puke up the proof of her bar tab, and liken the color of her own eyes to that of feces.

And so, at this point, he did what any well-trained officer would do: he called for backup.

The rest of it is history: a typical DUI test, including one memorable moment where our young heroine told the cop she couldn't blow hard enough into the breathalyzer because she suffered from "bad lung capacity". Cut to girl thrown in back of cop car. Girl goes to jail. Girl's "friend" goes home without his easy score.

The end.

Here's what the iPhone captured from the leftovers of the girl's car. After both airbags deployed and the tow truck crushed the rest of it down, her "friend" tried to save the car from being "made worse" by the pitchfork removal. We politely informed the loveable sidekick that his friend's car was, put quite frankly, fucked beyond repair.





So hopefully, after this lucky third contestant in the row of dumbasses behind the wheel, we have learned our lesson... don't park on the street in front of our house. But maybe, if you park just after the speed bump, you'll be safe.