my neighbors

I have had a fairly interesting couple of days with my neighbors. Let's start with the good. As it turns out, the blog-o-sphere has indeed made this world a much smaller place. Although I suggested that this was the case before, I was brutally reminded of it again yesterday when one of my favorite bloggers discovered that I live, not only in the same general region, but close enough that I could throw a baseball from my driveway and hit his deck. This came as a mild shock to both of us. Until yesterday, I was reading this guy's blog knowing only that he lived somewhere in the GR area; now, I look out my front window and see his house; weird. To make it even stranger, he also appears to have written about me (not knowing that this was a product of a battle of the wills between my wife and myself which, in the end, of course, I lost). Even had he known about this battle of the wills, though, I do not think his post would have changed nor do I think it should have -- people who have their christmas lights up past February 1st should either (1) be taken out and shot, or (2) be forced to pay a hefty daily penalty until they are taken down (and, yes, I realize this is a self-indictment). Anyway, his blog is quite well-written, filled with clever hyperbole, and sarcasm; so, if you need a good laugh -- particularly about the joys of living in an over-childrened subdivision -- give it a read. In order to set yourself up for the second half of this post, I might start by reading this or this or this (which almost made me pee my pants).

Now, I tell you the story of my hit and run accident with a little (seriously) old (seriously) lady (seriously) driving her inappropriately oversized (at least, for her) gas-guzzling SUV. I was forced to go to the new Meijer (on K'zoo b/w 60th and 68th) to get three quick things -- eggs, butter, and more buttermilk because we were having Scott, Susan, and kids over for dinner (pancakes, sausage, and bacon; this really is a whole nother story). Anway, I'm actually quite fond of this Meijer in that it's big, it's clean, it's in a mildly upscale part of town, and it's 1/2 empty all the time (which is good for someone like me who, while not agoraphopic, generally dislikes people and intensely dislikes herds of them). The Scott & Susan clan are coming over in relatively short order, so I need to move my butt. I speed (more so than usual) all the way down there, park the car in the first open spot, run in and get my three items, checkout though U-Scan (arguably, the greatest innovation in shopping history), check my watch, and am back at my car in the parking lot in 4 minutes -- pretty good. So I get it, look behind me carefully (like I always do; I have a pretty nice car and don't need any stupid run ins), and begin backing up. There were people walking around, so I was backing up pretty slowly. Anyway, when I reach the apex of my maneuver and begin to shift into Drive, I look back up again and there's the back end of a white GMC Envoy headed straight (i.e. perpendicular) at my right rear quarterpanel. I lay on my horn (which she's evidently too old to hear) to no avail, and CRUNCH. After moving my car into a parking space and out of the aisle (because if there's one thing I hate, it's when people get in fenderbenders and stay put to "preseve the scene of the accident" -- traffic flow be damned) to inspect the damage, I realize I'm going to have to submit it b/c the body work's probably going to run into the thousands. So, I approach the little old lady who, by this time, has climbed out of her SUV, taken a look at her bumper (which has nary a scratch), and concluded that (1) this was my fault (even though I was stopped and she ran into the side of my car), (2) there was no "serious" damage, and therefore (3) no harm, no foul. I, of course, fully intend to submit this to my insurance company, so I begin by politely asking to exchange information so we wouldn't have to file a police report and we could just be on our way. She then begins to explain to me about how this was all my fault (again, I'm stopped, she backs into the side of me), about how she was backing up so slowly, about how she never saw me (really? I thought you'd backed into me on purpose. Man, do I hate stupid people.), etc. I explained to her that I didn't really care whose fault it was, we still needed to exchange information. She protested some more again accusing me of being at fault. I again told her, "listen, we're in a no fault state, so it doesn't matter who's at fault; I don't think it's my fault, you obviously don't think it's your fault, but ultimately, that doesn't matter, we still need to exchange information." As a side note, I don't think this is true, I think Michigan's No-Fault System is a first party system where your own carrier takes care of your own stuff and you don't really need to exchange info, but I'm not sure about that and I wasn't taking any chances. Anyway, again she refused and told me she was "leaving now;" to which I responded, "lady, I don't want to fight about this, but we're in a Meijer parking lot (with security cameras over every inch of it), I'm going to get your license plate number, and you're going to force me to file a police report and get you charged with a hit and run." When she said, "fine" and climbed up her ladder to get back into her SUV, my jaw hit the floor, and I said, "you've got to be kidding me." She turned her car on, began driving forward (with me partially in the way), and I asked if she was seriously leaving. She rolled up her window, damn near ran me over and took off. I'm leaving out some minor details, but you get the gist.

Well, by this point, I'm pissed, and I mean flamin' pissed. I was still in a bit of shock/accident mode when I was talking to her, so my growing anger was repressed (I didn't even know how mad I was until she drove off). I've jotted down the license plate, and I place a call to Meijer security to have them make sure to hang onto the tape. I wasn't going to do this, but I had told her that if she left, she'd leave me with no choice, and I'm not one for empty promises, so I called the police and told them I wanted to file a report. Later that night, I met with a cop at the substation on 84th and Kalamazoo and relayed the entire story to him. He gave me an incident number and told me he'd find her at fault and would be getting in contact with her that night about the whole leaving the scene of an accident thing (minor detail she seems to have forgotten; I'm pretty sure that's a felony); I told him that if I had an option, I wanted to press charges (yes, I'm a lawyer, but I know as much about criminal law as a first-year law student -- which is more than your average joe, but less than you might expect). Sweet justice. For as angry as she made me, I'm sure she wasn't pleased; no one, and I mean no one, wants the cops showing up at their house at 11:00PM to "ask them a few questions."

The police report (which I'm protesting because it indicates that she did not get a ticket and was not cited for a "hit and run") can be found by clicking here.

Finally, if you have a blog, go here (c'mon, do it for science):