Minding my damned business...

I remember I went to get 2 tires that morning. Kumho 711, size 215/45 17. I'd gotten 2 for the front two weeks earlier, so the first time in 3 cars I was sporting a full set of ONE kind of tire at all 4 corners and happily on my way.
Then I went to work, did 4 hours of overtime. AT&T Wireless was not allowed to see me on a Saturday for anything south of $20something an hour, I was SERIOUS about that shit.
Jesse, Jessica, Jerome, Jenna and Josh were all in town for Father's Day, I spent the afternoon trying to learn Jessica to drive 5-speed, and I am willing to bet that now -- 6 years, 2 months and 2.5 weeks later -- she still can't do it... I'm a shitty teacher when my student is not picking up what I am putting down.

Anyway. We cooked out at the house, but I had planned to meet with Roger, Brandon and Jason at Celebration Station that evening, then another cookout and party at Ryan's , so following a good grilled meal with fam and a few beers, I went to Celebration Station.
"Holy shit, there's Cliff -- he got fired for sexual harassment or some shit like that, funny he is here with his wife and kid, I wonder how much she knows?"
Internal dialogue is some shit, ain't it?

Anyway. We do the go karts, it rains, we go indoors and I wipe the FLOOR with anything alive in Soul Calibur III, word to Brent Hampton thinking he will catch me slipping on the PS3 and getting embarrassed 4 years following... I call it an evening from the guys, head down Big Tree over to Guilford College and to New Garden, then down Brassfield, 2 blocks later, I am at Ryan's place. I have spent many an intoxificated night here. My presence has been expected for about an hour or more now.
"What the fuck? Chris Justice, Ishmael? (writer's note - I have known Ishmael since 7th grade and Chris since 9th) I ain't seen THOSE dudes in some years!"
Written off to happenstance, this night will be like the multiple dozens of others I have killed of in Ryan's place(s), one even as recently as 2 weekends before when I type this, but I digress... I am now SEVERAL shots of Hennesey (or Courvasier, or Meukow - fuck if I remember now) in, what had to be 8-12 Yuenglings and a couple of hits of the blunt that was traversing the room -- and I was 5+ years smoke free at this time -- I enter my mellow state where I am really probably sleep, but the apartment is still full of people, one or two of whom I might have a chance at inserting myself into, so I am talking loud and being as generally fly as I can be...

... or so I thought.

No fornication is in my future (well, past now, since this was June 2003 now) for this night, and I am calling it a night. Given what I have done to this point and the amount of time it would normally take me to do such things, it is now about 2something in the morning.
Wait, I HAVE my keys? Fuck, I must be good to drive to the house, this place is full of people that I won't be making sex with anyway. I'll get at my folk tomorrow, see the rest at work on Monday.

Know what?
I SERIOUSLY must have an angel over me...
I get out of Terrace Mews without backing into anything in my kinda high, but VERY drunk state of being, I get onto Battleground, on the cloverleaf to Wendover, think better of being on Wendover as fucked off as I am and cross over into the country, taking McConnell to Clapp Farm Rd., then I will be just 2 miles from the house with NO police interference.
I make it across to Bessemer, cross Market onto Franklin, make that left onto McConnell and what do you FUCKING know?

I happen upon this field, at the corner of McConnell and Young's Mill:



And I happened upon the most epic of occurrences I have ever witnessed without fully remembering.
That's right, I happened right upon Godzilla and motherfuckin' Mothra having a fucking fight RIGHT at that corner -- ONLY 2/3 a mile from Clapp Farm, where I was trying to get in order to make it to the house, about another mile or 2 from there.









I know this story seems a bit far fetched, but it is one million percent true, up to and including my starting drinking somewhere in the early afternoon and continuing to do so all day and evening, perhaps smoking something and then drinking some more, then trying to drive home. Yes, even the epic battle between Godzilla and Mothra was real, happened right here in Greensboro, I swerved to miss some debris that were thrown at Mothra, lost control and swerved left of the center line, overcorrected and went back across my lane, careened off of Godzilla's foot and into that field, where my car apparently flipped and rolled or flipped or rolled, or some combination of them.
Godzilla and Mothra carried their battle out somewhere else, apparently startled by my carnage and went on to destroy the rest of the countryside, leaving me to it.
Some people at the only house in earshot called 911 while I climbed out of the wreckage and lost an expensive-ass pair of glasses in the process, I was apparently propped up against the car when EMS showed, with 2 skull fractures and a broken jaw and shoulder for my troubles. Of course, I would not KNOW of these issues until 5 days later when I came to consciousness in the hospital, where I would spend a total of 16 days, returning home on my 24th birthday...

I was the only car involved in the wreck, so there was no further issues to be worried with, but my insurance company was not trying to HEAR that "act of God" shit as it relates to Godzilla and Mothra, so I was largely screwed there, and was allowed to spend the remainder of the summer home playing Need For Speed: Hot Pursuit 2 and going fucking crazy with a wired-shut jaw.
I'm all better now, though...






True story, every word of it.
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