HOW CRAZY DO YOUR FRIENDS REALLY THINK YOU ARE?

Okay...so you’re a little quirky.  People may think that your humor is a bit “to the left,” but they still think you’re entertaining.  You’re “colorful,” “a bit off at times,” but ultimately people enjoy being around you and you are labeled “the one most likely to get our attention.”  Well enjoy those thoughts, because what they are really saying is, “She/he may go off at any moment, so keep one foot on the floor at all times and never turn your back or watch for the eye to start twitching.”

 

My reason for making this observation is due to the true story I am about to share.  Now no one has ever labeled me a “wallflower,” at least not past the point where I open my mouth, or accused me of being anything but a “Type A” personality, but come on...

 

Many years ago while living in Vista, a suburb of the San Diego’s, North County area, I had a good friend, who was also my neighbor, a partner in crime so-to-speak.  At that time we were both “stay at home wives (our children grown and married),” me, because of my battle with Lupus (stay tuned for the story about that for a later post) and she, well because...she was able to tend the homestead while her husband brought home the bacon.  Anyhoo, one day an opportunity came about for her husband in Chicago so they packed up and headed off to “the windy city.”  

 

Side note:  Chicago, Illinois is not “the windiest city,” it is in fact Dodge City, Kansas, and the reason I know this is because I didn’t win a radio contest on New Years day.  When asked which city IS the windiest, I of course said Chicago, which was wrong.  I still won four tickets to Disneyland so it’s all good and it was super easy getting through to the radio station because most of the world was recovering from celebration  hangovers and I had to work!  But I digress…

 

The reason I note the area I was living in at the time is because I am sure there must be at least one person reading this blog that is aware of the “episode” I will be eluding to.

 

So I am resting in bed one afternoon watching the news when all of a sudden they break in the broadcasting to warn motorists of a chase in progress on the Northbound Interstate 15 and it was a big one.  Swarms of Highway Patrol, persistently tailing a blue Honda Civic, two-door  Hatchback.  Well this was a good one, proceeding up the 15 until the driver merged onto Interstate 78 (going from Escondido to Oceanside, through Vista).  About halfway down the “78” the driver pulled a U-turn, right in the middle of the lanes, and came to rest against the median looking straight at what was easily a dozen or more law enforcement vehicles.  With tinted windows rolled up, because it was 90-100 degrees that day if it was 50, air conditioning was being used which made it more difficult to see who was driving, i.e., male/female, except for “the eye in the sky” who finally caught a clear enough shot to determine it was a female driver, believed to be alone.  The stand-off was legendary.  Hour after hour went by with guns drawn at the ready as this woman sat in her car, holding all of us hostage at this point to see what was going to happen next.  From the helicopter view you could see her making gestures with her hands, banging her head on the steering wheel and in general acting distressed and disoriented and being that there was no guarantee that the woman was not armed, the saga continued.

 

At this point, after what seemed like the entire day, nothing was happening, but because nothing was happening I was glued to the news report to watch what wasn’t happening - are you with me so far?  Anyhoo, about hour “I have no idea,” my telephone rang and it was the aforementioned friend, calling from Chicago.  “Oh my God am I happy to hear your voice!” she screamed.  “I am watching the standoff on the “78” (the chase was being telecast nationally) and it’s a car exactly like yours (it was) and they said it was a woman behind the wheel and I thought maaaaay-be you had finally snapped and I had to call to make sure it wasn’t you!”


Really?

Gramma KareBear

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