My "Crash" Moment

Unlike Oprah's experience at Hermes, this is not about a brush I had with racism, but a brush I had with the back of an "Original London Tour" van last Tuesday morning. Not to overdramatise (or "over-egg the custard" as they say here), but it wasn't exactly a "brush" either...it was a pretty hard-core whack that sent me flying. It was SO not a good way to start the week -- getting hit by a car sucks! It could have been much worse though, I got off lucky.

For those who must have the details of this harrowing experience, read on!

Well, I was stepping off the curb to cross the street when a van that was parallel parked next to me backed up. All I remember was hearing myself yell (which was weird) and then being sent airborne a few feet and landing with a thud. Next thing I know, two very nice men were peeling me off the street. I was sort of in shock and couldn't speak for a few minutes. Luckily, one of the men was on the sidewalk next to me when it happened and he yelled to the driver to stop before he continued to back over me (which was really so great of him).

I'm clearly in a country where lawsuits don't happen, because the driver got out, and while apologizing profusely, gave me his name, number and license plate after asking me repeatedly if he could call an ambulance. In Manhattan, I would have been lucky if I could have come to my senses in time to catch the licence plate before the driver sped away (ok, maybe that's not totally fair, but HELLO, pretty likely).

Anyway, I could walk and move everything, so I insisted to the nice men that I was fine and continued walking to work. Fortunately, I was bundled up like the abominable snowman in a heavy coat, huge scarf and leather gloves which provided extra padding. My handbag took the brunt of the fall ("A Love Letter to Coach: How one girl's handbag saved her life...next on Oprah.")

But somewhere during the remaining two block walk to the office, I started to cry. Hysterically. Things started to hurt. I wanted my mom. And I was scared to be walking anywhere near a street at that point. Yep, so I walked right into the office like that...crying and semi-hysterical (oh well, my co-workers were going to realize I was crazy at some point). But I got over it. And I got off very lucky...it was nothing at all in the big scheme of things. All I have are some bruises and a couple minor aches.

Learnings from this little ditty? Well, I could tell you the standard fare about feeling lucky and grateful and all that, becuase that is all very true. But on a more practical note, let me also tell you about my new friend THE CROSSWALK....we're really, really close now. I think we might be together forever...I'll never cross the street again without it.

I used to tease my friend Stefanie (who lives here in London, actually) about being such a geek because she will never cross against a light. Then she told me how she got hit by a car J-walking and proceeded to show me the nasty scar that was a leftover. I half stopped teasing her then, but now I think I can put the teasing to rest for good....I'll be waiting right there next to her until that little green man lights up and the coast is clear.

Oh, and to anyone reading this who knows my Grandmother -- Do NOT mention this to her, please. She'll be on the next plane to England dragging me home and I'll never hear the end of it.