I should have taken this as a sign to turn my ass around and head home. But noooo… out of some kind of obligation, or pride, or desperation (possibly all three), I continued my drive up to the despicable city and horrid company tower.
What happened, you ask?
I ran over a piece of metal on the road and it ended up hitting my thigh.
It was an interesting set of circumstances. I was driving my Mercury Mystique, which if you've followed my earlier posts know of its lousy track record, and there was some debris on the road from a possible previous accident. It had been swept over to the pullout by the fast lane, but I managed to hit a piece of metal anyway. All I remember is the sudden pain in my upper thigh. I was like “WTF?” I couldn't really see anything down there, especially since I was driving – on a busy freeway I might add. I kept rubbing my thigh, wondering what in God’s name happened. Then, I noticed a flash of light occasionally coming from the floor of my car. That flash of light happened to be the shine of the pavement that I could see through a 2 inch hole in my floorboard. And in that gap was a piece of metal that looked to be the kind of square iron rod that is found in the bays of pick-up trucks. It didn't take much deduction to realize that I’d ran over this piece of metal parallel to the car, and the velocity of the tire threw the metal right through the floor and into my thigh.
That's right - I still have it after all this time. Ahh, the memories.
It was painful, but as far as I could tell I wasn't bleeding profusely or anything. I even managed to save the piece of metal by pulling it all the way out of the hole - while I was still driving, mind you. The damn thing was probably 2 feet long. So, my choice was to take this as a sign and book it out of this stupid city, or continue to this interview that I probably wasn't going to get the job for anyway.
Obviously, I chose the latter. So, I parked and checked out the damage, which was actually very minimal. Nothing but a small hole. Pretty amazing. However, my wound would have to wait. It was really high up on my thigh and I wouldn't be able to take a look without a mirror. I entered the building and looked for a restroom, since I was early (of course). The bathrooms were locked and for employees only. I hate Seattle. So, I just went into my interview. I have a feeling that I didn't get the job because I told her what had happened on the way here and how scared I was to drive in this damn city! (Not one of my proudest moments). After I left, I attempted to find a fast food restaurant so that I could finally see WTF was wrong with my leg. I pulled into a McDonald's, and saw a sign that said “restrooms are for paying customers only”. Did I say I hated this city? So, pissed off, I decided just to drive home instead. Luckily, the wound was nothing more than a bloodless cut/gash-thing and bruise. I also never got the hole in the car fixed, so it was kind of cool to see the road beneath me. Totally made it worth having that junk of a car (not!).
I’m so glad I didn't get that job.