Thursday Jan. 20, 2005
So the running theme is Javann tells stories that make him seem to be a bad person, or at least give some type of enjoyment to the people who come to this site. So what should I tell now?
So here's a story.
I'd set this up, but its much easier to just go into the long and short of it. Here's the scene: my car's in a field, its dark, I can't see my hand in front of my face, and my driver's side front tire is busted. There is no cell phone, and civilization might as well not exist, because I can't see it. Maybe because it was dark? Who knows? The truth of the matter is that I was in a bad fix. Did I mention its 11:00 or so? No? I just did. But I'm Javann. Javann Jones. Man of action and adventure, and this tire has no power to stop me from driving my car. So my first inclination is to get out of the field. I crank my car and it starts and away I go! Right into the curb. And I'm stuck. Then it hits me, to pop a curb you need air in your tires. And my driver's side tire just barely failes to meet that requirement. That's what four years of collegiate education will do for you. As I literally wished death upon myself for my stupidity, I decided I might as well break out the jack and lug wrench and try to make the most of my predicament.
That's when I notice, its cold. Not a problem. I have a jacket. A leather jacket. I'd hate to get that jacket ripped, and my shirt too, so I pull both off and continue in my T-shirt. Sure its cold, but this experience will only be worse if I damage my jacket, or my shirt. At least that's my thought at the moment. I can't even wear that stupid shirt anymore. As I fish around my trunk, throwing books and notebooks aside, I come to a horrid realization. I don't have a lug wrench. I threw my jack aside and dove into my trunk with full fledged passion, because my lug wrench HAS to be in that trunk. This night can not get worse, because if it does, I may have to kill small animals for food. And we all know that won't go over too big with PETA. And I'm all about making PETA happy. Still no lugwrench. I look down the road and I see exactly what I see behind me. Road. Great. I grab my jacket, lock my doors and I start walking.
As I walk, I wonder which is more likely to happen. Me going into someone's house at 11:30 at night, or me getting a lug wrench from someone. One is asking to come inside someone's domicile as a potential robber, the other is me asking for a blunt instrument to beat them down as a lazy mugger or murderer. I go with the lug wrench because if I decide to keep it, its only theft, as opposed to getting shot for attempting theft. I see houses. I start knocking.
The first house, the second house, and the third there was no response. The fourth house had a window next to the door. And there she was. The lady of the house sitting at the ill-placed computer playing solitaire. Her addiction to playing cards solo was her undoing, because as soon as I knocked, I saw her look dead at me. Oh that's right, I'm huge, black, and at your door, and I KNOW you're here. You can't just shrug it off and hope I leave. We just saw each other, you have to deal with me. She comes to the door as if I were a ravenous wolf, and she was a sheep whose sole protection lay in keeping the door as in between me and her as possible.
"Uh, do you want something?" No, I always walk up to people's doors at eleven at night for no reason. Do I look that dumb? No wait, do you look that dumb? Actually yes. Yes you do.
"I had a bit of car problem, and I'm in need of a lug wrench. Do you have one I can borrow?" Note I said BORROW.
She goes and gets her husband who comes downstairs in his robe. With his hand in his pocket. Oddly enough, he never took his hand out of that pocket. Think he had a gun? I did. That's why I moved as slowly as possible. Sudden movement might have gotten me shot. You'd think that was my only close contact with a gun that night, right?
Wrong. I get back to my car with the loaned lug wrench in hand and start jacking my car up. Do me a favor. Go to your car. Look at your jack. Notice that long screw? Imagine turning that thing till the jack was raised more than three inches of the ground. Now you understand my pain.
My pain didn't last long, since a cop pulled up to serve and protect. At least to protect. And by protect, I mean himself because the first thing he did was pull his gun. Excellent. I'm going to get shot for wielding a dangerous. . .lug wrench. Well, not tonight because I dropped it.
The next bit is pretty self explanatory. This is getting long, so I'll wrap it up. First I had to kneel on the pavement with my hands behind my back. Then I got cuffed. Spent thirty minutes in the back of the cop car. Which by the way, isn't designed to hold someone comfortably. I guess if you're a perp, you should be comfortable, but it'd be nice if I'd not been in a plastic chinese body trap. There was also country music. Thirty minutes of it. My body was in discomfort and my ears were in worse shape. I hate this state.
Turns out I scared somebody, pretty badly. And they called the cops. The rest is pretty much history. I made it home. I got lectured for being irresponsible. I went to bed thinking how much that night would forever be the worse night of my life. Thus far its held its place in my memory as the worse night of my life. I'm sure somewhere there's something out there hoping to dethrone it.