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June 16, 2005
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1:30am, last night. I am driving home from Club Mighty, where I had just spent the last 20 minutes of my time (Nora & I having arrived around 11pm,) making small talk with a enthusiastic guy who had approached me "because of my camera..." He is nice enough, but I am flagging, and can't bring myself to continue to pretend to be interested in what he has to say. So I find Nora up front, and, carefully avoiding the eyes of Mr. Niceguy, who had slowly trailed me there, we leave.
I am heading west on 9th and am reaching the point where 9th crosses Market and turns into Hayes. I am in the furthest left lane (as is my wont), and there is a white pickup two lanes over to my right. I am driving along with alacrity. It is late. I am tired. I am telling myself that I shouldn't have come out that evening and form mental lists of what I need to do the next day (pack rehearsal clothing, remember to bring women's costumes, mail tickets to friends, finish up those projects at work). I begin to cross Market when, peripherally, I catch a glimpse of that white pickup, two lanes over suddenly make a hairpin turn to the left, straight towards shotgun side of my car. I slam on the brakes, swing the steering wheel to to the left, and, miracle, of miracles, in that split second of nose-to-nose white-on-white near-impact, I manage to drive off straight down Market St.
It is all I can do not to jump from my car and yell at the idiot now idling stupidly at the next light. A MUNI island protects him, and I turn right onto S.Van Ness and, shaking slightly (anger, aggravation, relief), make my way home.
Posted by claudine at June 16, 2005 02:06 PM