PLANTATION vs. THE UNITED STATES POSTAL SERVICE

Round 1: 12:38 p.m. I walk into the Coconut Grove Post Office. First reaction? Everything is normal. There is a huge line, there are too few employees to help, and it’s hot as hell in the building. It took me 22 minutes to get to the front of the line. I had my package all ready to mail except for the label. Why? Because there were no priority mail labels in the little self-help section and there were no pens to write on your label should there have been any. The postal employee weighed my package and gave me a label and told me to step to the side until I filled out the label. She called, “Next,” before I could even say anything. Naturally, the next person had some complicated transaction and I was forced to wait 15 minutes for a label that took me a whole 45 seconds to fill out. During those 15 minutes I’d built up enough anger to really let this lady have it. But that was the old Plantation. The new Plantation could calmly discuss his difference of opinion with said postal employee. I explained to her that I didn’t think it was fair to push me aside for a label that took me less than a minute to fill out, and that had they properly supplied the self-help area, I wouldn’t have had this problem in the first place. Let’s just say I didn’t receive a whole lot of sympathy from her. OK, now onto the actual mailing of the package. She asked me if there were any breakables, liquids, blah blah. I didn’t really think about any possible consequences so I answered honestly, “Yes.” I was mailing back Andy’s cologne bottle that he left while he was here. The postal employee apologized and said I can’t mail the cologne. No perfumes, liquids allowed unless…unless I could tell her the explosion point of the bottle. I told her I left chemistry behind in the 10th grade and I walked out. Round 1 winner: USPS

Round 2: May 7th 12:30 p.m. I walk into the Downtown USPO. Short line. Wow, my lucky day. Mom’s having trouble with the State of Vermont Department of Taxes. So I have to mail all her tax support and her tax return (being the good son I am, I do her federal and state tax return) back to her. I had her Mother’s Day card also and just figured I’d throw it into the folder and mail it all together. Priority Mail once again. 2-3 days arrival time. I never buy the extra services like delivery confirmation, signature required, or insurance. It’s a box of papers. Why bother? I called mom on Mother’s Day and she can’t figure out why I didn’t send her a card? What??? That box should have arrived Friday at the latest. I told her to let me know if it showed up the next day. Nope. So I went back to the USPO and asked them if they could trace the package. Well, since I didn’t buy any of those frivolous extras, there was no way to track the package. The postal employee thought there was still a chance it could arrive at its intended destination but if worse came to worse, it would come back to me because I had a return address on the label. Two weeks pass and there is no sign of the package anywhere. Round 2 winner: USPS

Round 3: May 21st 12:15 p.m. I walk into the same Downtown USPO, but today there are tons of people. I’m the 10th person in line and it is extremely hot in there. Unbelievably there is only one cashier. If each person takes 5 minutes, it’s gonna take me 50 minutes to get to the front. Another weird thing is that there was actually another employee in there. But she was simply telling us where to stand in line. I was really dumbfounded as more people entered and waited. 20 people in line and only one cashier. Who is the brains behind this outfit? I wouldn’t have to be in there if they hadn’t lost my package, but I had to re-mail my mom’s tax return. Well, it ‘only’ took me 45 minutes to get to the front and I think I sweated off around 5 pounds. Yes, this time I paid the extra and got delivery confirmation for my priority mail. Another lunch hour ruined by the USPS. Round 3 winner: USPS

Round 4: May 23rd 8 p.m. I get home and checked my mail and almost passed out when I saw the mangled box in my mail slot. The lost package found its way back home. It had taken a beating and had holes down both sides of the letter box. I checked the package to see if there was any clue as to why it was not delivered. There were two such clues. An Air Force One Stamp for $4.60 and a blue label that said, “Important Customer Information.” I read the blue label. And I quote in exact replicate font, “We regret that your mail was not collected or is being returned to you due to heightened security requirements. All mail that bears postage stamps and weighs more than 13 ounces MUST be taken by the customer to a retail service associate at a Post Office.” Hmm, seems to me I held up my end of the bargain. I was the customer, and I went to a retail service associate at a Post Office. But it seems the retail service associate at said Post Office slapped a stupid stamp on the package instead of metering it properly and violated her own heightened security rule. Round 4 knockout winner: USPS

Why is it that any U.S. corporation can balance their budget but our own government can’t. What’s the budget deficit these days? How many trillions of dollars? And the poor USPS, they must get their budget cut down to the bone. I think the employees who work there are actually very nice but the system they work under is clearly broken. I’m sure this is not a priority fix for the next President, but I for one, would love to see an improvement.

BREAKING EVEN

Jerry : You know, life is amazing. I just lost a job and five minutes later get another, same weekend, same money.
Kramer : You know who you are? Even Steven


Jerry : Played cards last night.
Elaine : Oh yeah? How'd you do?
Jerry : Broke even.
Elaine : You always break even.
Jerry : Yeah, I know; like yesterday I lost a job, and then I got another one, and then I missed a TV show, and later on they re-ran it. And then today I missed a train, went outside and caught a bus. It never fails! I always even out!


Elaine : Do you have twenty bucks?
Jerry : What for?
Elaine : Just gimme twenty bucks.
Elaine takes the money and throws it out the window.
Jerry : What the hell was that?
Elaine : Let's see if you get the twenty bucks back.
Jerry : You know you could've thrown a pencil out the window and seen if that came back.
George rushes out, J+E follow him. J puts his hand in his pocket.
Jerry : Elaine ... look! A twenty!
Elaine : Oh my God.


Rachel : Jerry ...
Jerry : Yes?
Rachel : I've been doing a lot of thinking.
Jerry : Aha?
Rachel : Well, I don't think we should see each other any more.
Jerry : Oh, that's okay.
Rachel : What?
Jerry : Nah, that's fine. No problem. I'll meet somebody else.
Rachel : You will?
Jerry : Sure. See, things always even out for me.


George : I'm back in business, baby!
Jerry : George, I wouldn't get too excited about this stuff, you know, things have a way of evening out.
George : Hey! ( to Elaine, who doesn't look too cheerful )
Jerry : Elaine, don't get too down. Everything'll even out, see, I have two friends, you were up, he was down. Now he's up, you're down. You see how it all evens out for me?





During the last two weeks, unlucky me actually found money. Last week, I found a $10 bill in a parking lot. So I’ve been discussing this Seinfeld episode with my friend. We both agreed that unlucky me would likely break even and lose $10. But this week, I found a dollar bill sticking out of a parking meter of all things. Could my luck really have changed around or was the ax just waiting to fall. I was again reminded of the Seinfeld episode.

It’s weird but lately, I have actually been looking on the ground for money. But in the back of my mind, I’ve also been thinking of how I might end up breaking even. Hah, I should have known, for today, history repeated itself (for the life of me, I can't find the post about locking myself out of my apartment).

I had just finished running 5k and it was really hot out here as it usually is. I decided to rest in the park before going home. So I plopped down and shut my eyes for 15 minutes. One of my last conscious thoughts before dozing off was to check my pockets before leaving just in case either of my apartment keys fell out. I awoke abruptly and realized how thirsty I was. I needed to get home quickly. I walked maybe 20 steps before that “key” thought re-entered my head. I immediately reached into both pockets. Problem. One key was missing. And just like last time, it was the darn apartment key. I had the stupid gate key but not the apartment door key. Why couldn't it have been the gate key I lost?

No big deal, right? Just go back to the spot and find the key. But what spot? I didn’t mark it. It was a huge field. I tried but it was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. I looked for 30 minutes. Nothing. Then all the panic thoughts set in. I have no phone, no wallet, I don’t know the landlord’s number, I don’t know anyone’s number. Who remembers numbers anymore? Who locks themselves out of their apartment more than once in a lifetime? I remembered the debacle from last time and decided I wasn’t going through all that waiting and wating for hours shtick again. Nope, this called for drastic measures. I was gonna break a window to get in. I had two options. Bedroom or living room. I decided living room because that way, no one would see me do it. I drummed up a million scenarios of how I’d tell the landlord. None of them were very plausible. Maybe I’d just settle on the truth?

Then thankfully, panic gave way to reason. I remembered there was a locksmith next to the Laundromat I go to. It was only a 15 minute walk. I was dying of thirst but had no money. That’s the damned problem with running. You want to run light and not be bogged down with too much baggage. So I run with basically nothing. Smart, huh? I made it to the locksmith and although no one was there, they posted a 24-hour phone number. The Laundromat let me use their phone and I got a hold of Frank The Locksmith. He met me at the Laundromat and drove me to my apartment. I was amazed at how quickly he opened the deadbolt and the door lock. Less than five minutes. Scary almost.

I was just happy that I got in. I knew there would be a heavy price to pay. Indeed there was. Frank gave me the bill. $155 cash only. And THAT, my friends, is my way of breaking even.

ANOTHER STREAK COMES TO AN END

There’s no doubt life was not meant for perfection. I’ve had some good streaks but slowly they’re all coming to an end this year. 30 years without a ticket and now three in the last six months. And now this.

As much as I travel and as many horrible experiences I seem to have every time I do, I’ve never missed a flight because of my own personal lateness. Like getting a ticket, I think luck has a lot to do with it. Maybe your connecting flight is delayed, maybe your gate is close by, maybe the security line was short, or even more of a miracle, it was fast-moving. Unfortunately for me, none was the case today. Mistake #1 was hitting the wrong button on my blackberry alarm. It went off at 4:00 a.m. and instead of hitting snooze, I hit the ‘kill’ switch. I planned on getting out of bed by 4:30 but instead, awoke in a panic state at 4:50. My flight was scheduled to leave at 6:52. I did my best to make up some time and really, everything was going smoothly. I got out of the hotel, drove to the airport, checked out my rent-a-car and got on the shuttle bus in good shape. As I sat on the bus, I realized I picked out the wrong shirt which really didn’t match my pants or socks, but oh well. I was going to make my flight.

I got to the USAir counter and breezed through it. No checked bags for me anymore. Only one more hurdle. Security. As I walked up to the USAir section of security, it looked like I was home free. Lots of open space. But as I turned the corner, I looked in disbelief at what looked like the line for Space Mountain at Disney World. The sign said, “Approximately a 20 minute wait from here.” I knew the only way that for that to be true would be if the line moved quickly. I looked at my watch. 6:03. I still had time. But standing in line for five minutes going nowhere, I realized that the 20 minute sign was either a joke or a dream. I had to negotiate four long lines of up and back. I reached the end of the first one, and it was 6:13. A quick calculation and I realized that I’d get to the front of the line at 6:43 and THEN I’d have to go through all the checkpoints. I needed a miracle. I needed something or someone to speed up. I got none of it. Not to mention the fact that it was hot as hell in that line. Not to mention that somehow, the zipper on my bag got tangled in the security rope and I couldn’t move. Yeah. I was stuck and I couldn’t get the damn thing free. It took three nice passengers to help me finally separate my bag from the damn rope. I could hear the laughs. Great. I was providing free entertainment.

I got to the front of the line at 6:37. I had a choice of three TSA agents. Naturally, I picked the slowest. The lady in front of me had a passport and she was having issues. The agent next to me was passing people through briskly while I just stood there. I finally switched lines and got through. The agent then told me to pick any line, a skill I sucked at. They all looked equally slow. The agents were shouting to remove all electronic devices and power cords and all that suspicious stuff. I threw all that crap in a tray, took off my shoes, and waited at the metal detector. With my luck, I thought for sure a beep would go off and I’d be detained but no. I actually got through. My carry-on came through. My shoes came through. The laptop and all the power cords came through. While I waited for my computer bag, I crammed on my already laced shoes. 6:42. There was still hope.

Aah, but this is me we’re talking about. No luck Charlie. There came the TSA agent holding my computer bag asking folks who it belonged to. At that moment, I realized this streak was for certain, over. I was so frustrated. I didn’t even look at the guy. I kept muttering f-bombs to myself at how ass-backward our security system in this country really is. I’m all about being safe and all that but there truly HAS to be a better way. The guy asked me if I had any sharp objects, weapons, blah blah. He had all my shit out on a table. And then came the reason for my detainment. He held up two objects. Clearly security risks. Afrin nose spray and a spray bottle of eyeglass cleaner. “Sir, these MUST be in a clear plastic bag. In the future please comply…” I stopped listening. And I didn’t bother to argue with the guy about how inconsistent the rules are. I’d traveled all over the place with those items and had never had a problem. Not to mention that my carry on was filled with toiletries, hair gels, shampoos, etc. yet apparently those were not a problem. 6:48.

Gate A-22. All the way across the terminal and all the way down. I wasn’t going to run. I mean, I had no chance anyway unless the plane left late. I thought about how many times I sat on a plane waiting for god-knows-what and seemingly always leaving late. I did walk as fast as my two legs could go. I got to the gate at 6:52. Not a soul in sight. The gate agent was still there and said her apologies to the guys in front of me and to me as well. The doors were closed and we needed to rebook. Streak over. As I rebooked, the USAir agents were really surprised at how many calls they were getting about the long, slow security lines and that they needed to alert the tower to hold up flights. They were at a loss as to why TSA didn’t properly staff up for the always busy Monday morning rush. Me, too.

Yeah, in the end it’s my own fault for being 20 minutes later than I’d hoped, and that 20 minutes would have made the difference in me making that flight and allowing the streak to go on. But streaks are meant to end and luck runs out as it all did this morning. As I walked slowly to my new assigned gate, I couldn’t help but notice how many people were running. Running with panic on their faces knowing that the fate I just accepted was about to become their reality. I looked to my right and shook my head. That security line wasn’t getting any shorter, and it certainly wasn’t moving any faster.

WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

Have you ever noticed that there are certain things in life you’re either very lucky at or very unlucky at? If I had to think off the top of my head at this, I’d say in my life I’ve been unlucky at love and relationships, money, golf, and except for my current job, work. I’ve been lucky at very few things but important things nevertheless. I’ve been very lucky with Andy. I’m definitely imperfect, but I can’t complain about my health. Now on a much smaller scale, and the subject matter of this post, I’ve had this amazing run of luck avoiding tickets while driving.

Had. As in past tense.

Before February, I had an amazing streak of 30 years driving without getting a ticket. I think it was a unique combination of conservative driving, driving slow cars, and a good amount of luck. I could have easily gotten 10 speeding tickets in those 30 years but lucked out with warnings or simply someone else going faster than I was. There wasn’t much luck involved when my perfect streak came to an end. I had a senior moment and backed into a car.

Since the back-in, I’ve had a strange feeling that it wouldn’t take me another 30 years to get my next ticket. My driving formula has changed. I have a faster car, I drive faster and more aggressively. When you combine all that and my number one pet peeve, slow drivers in the left lane, it leads to trouble. Six weeks ago (I’ve been meaning to write about this), I was on my way to the airport to pick up my lost bag thanks to American Airlines. A few hours turned into four days so I was not a happy camper. The scene was this. I was in the left lane and the guy ahead of me was going slow. Then, he decided he was going to turn left across oncoming traffic into a shopping center. So he stops. What pissed me off was that there was a middle turn lane he was supposed to be using but for some reason, he ignored it. My blood pressure was rising by the second. I waited seemingly forever to get around him in the right lane. Once I did, I accelerated with a good amount of speed. I wasn’t speeding; heck, I was going zero to twenty. But up ahead, there was a cop standing in the street. There was some construction going on. So I slowed down. When I got close to him, he waved me into a parking lot. I figured it was some kind of checkpoint for alcohol or something.

But no. In his mind, I was going to run him over. He was arrogant and didn’t want to hear anything from me. It probably didn’t help that he was Latino and I wasn’t. Ticket. I was dumbfounded really. He cited me for an improper lane change. Lame change more like it. So there you go, 30 years without a ticket and then only four months for the next one.

Saturday, I had to make a 350-mile road trip (posts upcoming). I originally set my cruise for 79 and then adjusted it to 82 because I was following two cars setting a good pace for me. Once again, those same risk factors came into play. Faster car, faster driving, aggressive driving, and slow drivers in the left lane. This time, I got stuck behind a big line of cars in the left lane. Someone up there was driving slow and backing up highway traffic and making me lose patience. After about 10 minutes of going 65 in the left lane, I’d had it. I made a move to the right lane and accelerated past a bunch of cars and cut in behind a white van. Now if I could just get around the white van I was home free. But the van decides to slam on his breaks in the left lane with no one in front of him. Naturally, I slam on mind and nearly hit him. Right then, I learned why he slammed on his breaks. State trooper hiding in the median. Oh no.

I watched carefully in my rear view mirror for any signs of the trooper car stirring. Sure enough he was making a move. Just in case, I moved over to the right lane and drove slowly behind another van. I kept my eye on the trooper who now had his blue lights on and was coming up fast in the left lane. It looked like he was about to pass me and go after someone else when he swerved and got right in behind me. I knew I was screwed. This guy was no happy camper either. He read me the riot act about aggressive driving being against the law in the State of Florida and somehow clocked me going 98 in the right lane. In his mind (judgment once again), I passed a bunch of cars, pulled behind the white van, and gave him the high-beams to move over. Well yes officer, that’s what I did but I’d hardly call that illegal especially when you consider the van breaking because he was speeding until he saw you. I disputed his 98 reading saying I’d never driven 98 in my life. True, and I don’t know how a radar gun could be that far off because I was NOT going 98. 88 maybe which I could have believed. Like the other ticketing officer, he didn’t want to hear anything from me and while he did his paperwork writing up a $213 ticket, I sat in the car and wondered where all my luck went on the road.

Zero tickets in 30 years and now three tickets in six months. My luck’s gone and I’ve come to realize that tickets are just a cost of driving. I’m not going to argue with cops anymore. It’s fruitless. I’m just gonna accept the ticket and move on. I’m sure I’ll get another one before the year is over. I’m convinced of it. I’m not going to change my driving patterns any because it’s basically luck and officer judgment. I mean, in the blink of an eye, these guys make snap judgments of what they think they see and unlike an NFL football game, there is no replay to change the call. I sat in my car aggravated but when I thought of the reason I had to make this road trip, a ticket seemed very insignificant in the grand scheme of life. More on that soon…

TRAVEL TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS

I’ve been convinced for some time now that I am travel cursed. I’ve written about some of my travel woes, and people who work with me love to hear my travel stories. I feel sorry for people who travel with me because ultimately they are trapped in my travel-cursed world. There was a group of us at work sharing and laughing at my travel tales of woe. A colleague of mine had the unenviable task of traveling with me for a business trip. He joked that nothing could go wrong this time because there would be no language barrier and no trains to catch. A simple trip to Chicago and Dallas. I told the group that I WOULD have stories for them when I got back.

I left the house last Sunday on a sunny day and met my colleague at the airport. He’s the same guy who said nothing could go wrong. I told him that he’s in my world and to expect the unexpected. Strangely, things were going according to plan. I actually got to the gate without incident. We were about 15 minutes from boarding when, seemingly out of the blue, a huge storm blew in. It rained hard for an hour, and we heard the airport had been temporarily closed. I looked at my colleague and told him, “It’s starting!” An hour delay is fairly minor in my travel world; I wouldn’t even consider it abnormal.

Abnormal began upon landing. I was sitting in a bulkhead row directly across from the flight attendant who was sitting in her jump seat. The pilot did his best to contribute to the curse by bouncing the landing really hard and abruptly. The flight attendant jumped and let out a little screech. I felt something invade my space, and I looked up to see the ceiling hanging by a thread by a bunch of wires about six inches from my head. I could only laugh. I’ve never seen anything like that except maybe in the movies. I looked back to my colleague who was supposed to be sitting next to me, but was one row behind me. He was laughing and telling me how happy he was that he wasn’t sitting next to me.

We went to get our bags and in the span of one hour watched our flight switch from carousel to carousel to finally disappearing all-together. I told my colleague that this was just all part of the curse. Our bags finally did show up and we’d made it through our first leg of the journey.

Once again, my travel stories became the topic of conversation with our group in Chicago. I told the group that this trip’s occurrences were only minor, and that I fully expected to have more stories for them by the time I got to Dallas. I sorta had a head start because according to American Airlines, I didn’t have a seat on the flight. I called our Admin. in Miami to have her check into it. She assured me I had a seat. Perhaps, but according to the American Airlines website, I didn’t. The next day, I decided to try to check in online. It said I couldn’t check in because I didn’t have a seat. I had that feeling that I was headed for another one of those weird situations.

We got to O’Hare, and there were seemingly a million people in the terminal. I didn’t think much of it since O’Hare’s one of the busiest airports in the country. But things began to get strange. The lines for check-in were huge. I saw a news camera, then another. After a long wait at the self-service check-in kiosk, I swiped my card and waited in anticipation to see if I had a seat or not on the 6 p.m. flight. Good news/bad news. I was surprised to see that I indeed had a seat. Unfortunately, my seat was for a 3 p.m. flight the next day. I told my colleague I’d see him in Dallas tomorrow. He laughed but when he checked in he discovered he was on the very same plane that I was on. Time to investigate.

According to the American Airlines rep, our flight was canceled. She then told me that hundreds of flights were canceled due to weather problems and that the whole airport was a mess. Aah, that explains the news cameras. And now that I looked around, I saw more and more news stations covering this “event.” Our options? Stand in a two-hour line or call American to re-book a flight. I didn’t like either option, so I went into scramble mode. I called our inept travel agent, and told her the story. She started looking for flights. American flights were sold out until that 3 p.m. flight the next day. I told her to search other airlines and she came up with an 8 a.m. United flight so I told her to book it. That meant we were staying in Chicago for the night so I told her to start looking for hotels for us. She said everything was sold out. So I called our Chicago folks who gave me five or six hotel options closely. After five sold outs, I got us two rooms at a nice Embassy Suites which even had a shuttle service. We were all set. My colleague gave me kudos for handling everything so smoothly and quickly. I told him I was used to it. I guess what disturbed me most was that when I went to the online check-in earlier in the day, it made no mention of the flight being canceled. It just told me I had no seat. My confidence in American was waning.

The next day started out normally enough, but it didn’t take long for that to change. I got pulled out of the security line for pre-screening. I looked back at my colleague who was, once again, laughing. Well, that was a mistake because since our itinerary was booked together, it meant he was coming with me to be pre-screened. There were no further incidents like the shoe incident, but when I got my bag back, there was a problem. They broke the handle on my bag. “File a claim,” was the cheery response I got. It was a pain trying to drag that bag around the airport with a short handle. The curse continued to haunt.

We made it to Dallas without further incident, and I had a wealth of travel stories to tell my new Dallas colleagues. Once again, I told them that I’d likely have another story for them when I got home to Miami. But could it be? No further strange happenings? I checked my bag because I didn’t want to lug it around the airport with the broken handle. I got through security with no issues and was on board the plane on-time and I had a seat. We only waited an extra 30 minutes before we taxied. Something about shifting the weight of the plane. We took off and landed fine. Yay. I said goodbye to my colleague who conceded that I was definitely travel cursed. I went to go get my bag. As usual, I was one of the last passengers waiting for their bag. Just once I’d like for my bag to come off early. And then the carousel stopped. No more bags were coming out. Could American really have lost my bag? A direct flight, no delays. How could this be? I waited two-hours in the baggage lost line. They told me my bag was removed from the plane when they did that weight shift thing. No worries though. It was on the next flight and I’d be getting a call from American at night and should have my bag the next day. Well, I got no call and got no bag. That was Friday. It’s now Monday and I still don’t have my bag. Oh yeah, I’m convinced. I’m most definitely travel cursed. And now it’s gonna get complicated. I leave for Phoenix on Wednesday. I have a feeling my bag won’t be here by then, and I may never see it. But perhaps my biggest fear is the airline I’m flying on Wednesday. Yeah, you guessed it. American.

PERFECT NO MORE

Streaks seem to have followed me all my life. Some good, some bad, some most unusual. I’ve written about them, too. I’m not really sure which streak is the most, hmm, accomplished. Being a virgin for 29+ years? How bout the Seinfeldian streak of not throwing up for 29 years? Not seeing a movie for seven years? Another abstinence streak of 29 months? Sorry Jim Carrey but for me, the number seems to be 29, not 23. Well anyway, another major streak has ended for me. And this one lasted 29 plus one years and may be the most impressive or simply the luckiest.

I’d just finished dinner with mom. My car was parked at a 45-degree angle against a busy street. I couldn’t go anywhere because a red light had caused cars to form a line behind me which boxed me in. As the cars appeared to finally move, I looked back and a guy was letting me in so I began to slowly back up. BAM! Yes indeed, I backed right into a car I never saw. I got out and this lady started screaming at me right away. Ooh man, was she irate. She was from Long Island and had her two kids in a rent-a-car and, as she put it, “This is the last thing I needed.” I apologized a gazillion times for my temporary lapse of reason. I eventually calmed her down as she realized I was a decent guy who’d simply made a mistake. I cringed as I began to survey the damage. Her car wasn’t that bad. I’d dented the rear passenger quarter panel and scraped some paint. I’d hoped like hell there wouldn’t be any damage to my three month-old car. No such luck. Luckily most of the damage was to the bumper but I was still so disappointed at myself. I called the cops and reported the accident and that, thankfully, no one was hurt. The officer came and I pretty much told him I’d simply backed into the lady. I told him that I’d been driving for 30 years and never had gotten a ticket so this was really a new experience for me.

He disappeared for awhile as he ran background checks on my clean driving record. Clean no more. Yes, for the first time in 30 years of driving, I’d gotten a ticket. $133 for improper backing and causing an accident. I think I was more upset for ending the streak than the money for the ticket or for the $500 deductible I ended up paying for a new bumper. Wow, I don’t know if I’ll ever put together another streak of 30 years of anything. Hmm, I haven’t dated for four months. Gotta long way to go there. Got another sexless streak going on five months. How about another throw up streak. That could be my last hope. It’s been seven years already. Wow, another 23 years and I’d be 68 years old. I think it’s safe to say my best streaks are all behind me now.