Klimt, collapses and car crashes

 

See how the tire is revealed by the entire bumper being demolished?
It almost took off his axle.

The other day I was hanging out with a friend and describing how someone had rung our doorbell around midnight and I looked out from the balcony and saw how one person had hidden himself behind our Spanish arch while the other was at the door and called out frantically to my husband, "Don't open the door! It's bad guys! One's hiding" ...

and how my husband called 911 before we understood they were the law (it was two sheriffs on a very strange mission that I still don't fully understand, and I guess one had hidden himself in case my husband opened the door and shot his colleague), ...

and in the same conversation we talked about how I'd forgotten my purse at a teachers' meeting and how the (very nice!) person who took it for me since campus was closing happened to live an hour away, and just a few other things, and she said, "You have the most drama in your life of anyone I know."

I had to laugh, but it kind of hurt. In fact, after the sheriffs departed, I had asked myself, "Why does all the weird stuff happen to us?"

So that was Jan. 11.

On Jan. 23, we were part of two more 911 calls in the space of 40 minutes. We went to San Francisco for the Klimt and Rodin exhibit which closes Jan. 28–if you live in the area, you have four more days to see an absolutely incredible exhibit. It was fabulous. We loved touring the exhibit and then the permanent galleries of the Legion of Honor.

We looked at the time and realized our hope of getting a fun lunch in San Francisco had evaporated time-wise. So we headed down to the basement cafe of the Legion to grab something quick and head home. At the bottom of the stairs was a woman on the floor surrounded by a small group of people, having CPR administered.

My husband works in the ER, so he went over to check in. Things were already underway, but we were part of that drama for about 20 minutes. I stood there, tears prickling in my eyes, thinking, "Is this how this woman dies? On the floor of the museum?" and thankfully, she opened her eyes eventually and was able to speak to the caregivers.

Someone had called 911, and soon enough the paramedics were there to take over.

Kind of a sacred moment as a life was saved.

So incredible.

And then, as one does, we resumed the concerns of the living: food. But there was a long line to get into the cafe. We resolved we would get on the road and see how traffic treated us; maybe we could get something fast on the way.

This is how quickly that long line of cars forms after an accident.
I wonder how long traffic was affected.
There was a ton of debris in the road, glass and metal, so cars had to slow
to get past the accident site. To make things better, that meadow on the left was filled with cows.

About 20 minutes into our drive, something happened in front of us. I can't even say what it was (I'd make a terrible eyewitness), but there were cars in front of us colliding, and it was only due to my husband's excellent defensive driving that we were not involved. He braked hard and swerved, and we missed the car in front of us by mere feet.

It was a three-car crash and we were almost the fourth. 

We pulled over to be witnesses (my husband had paid attention and knew who was at fault) and give our number to the other drivers. Both our phones had died (despite being charged all night the previous night and my not running any draining program: more drama) but luckily his had been charged just long enough in our 20 minute drive for me to call 911.

After a long time, the police officer arrived and we took off. We knew we were never going to get home in time, so we changed to charging my phone just enough to call the wonderful person we were going to be late for.

Traffic sucked and because we were on the road an extra hour because of it, we had to stop for gas. More drama.

So, we were part of three 911 calls in a week.

Let's hope things slow down for a little.

I guess the one thing I can say is, the Klimt exhibit was still worth it. And tomorrow I'll post photos. Undramatic photos.

Best defensive driver and CPR overseer ever.

Me, art lover. Our parking spot just happened to have a spectacular view of that
Golden Gate Bridge (I'm so used to typing Bridget, my character in The Murderer's Maid
that I literally just wrote, Golden Gate Bridget)

(And that's what I love about San Francisco. You just, you know, pull over on your way to the museum and there's a world-class view people get in an airplane for.)

. . . .