Monday, November 12, 2018

Coulda, shoulda, woulda

This photo was taken outside my local grocery store yesterday morning. I walk the 500 ft. in the mornings on the weekends to get my coffee because it makes me feel superior. Then I pay some super shitty chain to make my coffee while I stand there with plaque on my teeth, messed up hair, and no bra – so it completely negates my gained advantage. I’m barely above growling at people.

What I want to know is, how fucked up must one be to do this degree of damage? It seems clear, as it only really can to another person who’s driven completely shitfaced, that this poor fucker forgot where their brakes were located. I hate it when that happens. Sadly, trying to “Fred Flinstone” your car to a complete stop doesn’t work either.

I need more information to discern the level of drunken fuckery that happened here, too many variables. I’d need to understand tolerance, size of the individual, type of alcohol consumed…that kind of stuff. All before I could even compare it to my own drinking and decide how sauced they were. For all I know, this was a housewife on her third bottle of wine.  For her – treacherous. For me – Patsy Cline songs and too many cigarettes. And that would just be a warm-up.  

Ah, but there’s more…

It appears that I must give credit to the driver of the vehicle. They parked on the most convenient side of the building. I wasn’t there, so maybe “parked” is the wrong verb. Maybe they just came to a stop. The location of the alcohol in this store is, you guessed it, on the same side these folks came to grinding halt at. Just beyond the doors and slightly to the right is Mecca – the liquor department; though I doubt they ever made it there. Good thinking though. Practical.

I’m not sure if they ever set foot inside the store. The passenger lost their Taco Bell right outside the door. My theory is: the driver forgot where the brakes were, they popped the curb stopper, smacked the wall, then the passenger opened their door and let go of the last thing they ate.

Now, because I’ve been in similar “catch me if you can” scenarios, I know that if the car still runs, so do you. So that’s my theory. If they were able to get away, they did. They probably were shaken though and would need to stop somewhere for a drink. CVS is across the street and they sell hard alcohol. Bottom shelf vodka is 5 bucks. They’d want to start saving for repairs to the vehicle and the wall. Eventually that shit catches up to you.

But I wouldn’t really know anything about being a big fat drunk doing stupid drunk shit. I’m just a girl getting her coffee with an active imagination and a cast iron stomach. Now, will someone please get out there and clean up that fucking vomit.

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