I had another life once. A life before kids, before I met my husband. A life where I was wild and carefree. I did what I wanted when I wanted. I loved the nightlife and I was one irresponsible bitch. So irresponsible in fact, that I gave up a managerial job at the age of 19 because it was getting in the way of my drinking and clubbing. My other life. The one where I thought I was invincible. The one where I drank like some frat boy, and I thought I was cool because I was doing it before I was even of the legal age to drink. I got into the clubs as a 21 year old and I never had a fake ID. It was in this other life that I thought it was so fucking cool that Las Vegas did not have an open container law. I was able to walk the strip with a drink in my hand and I thought that was the shit. Never once thinking about the fact that I could have gotten in trouble for that open container because I wasn't old enough to even have it in my hands.
At least I looked hawt while I was doing it. (photo clean up courtesy of
WT)
Back in this other life, I had a boyfriend. He went to Vegas for the Holidays to be with his family, I stayed in Ks. One day I received a phone call that he had been in a car accident. He was fine. No broken bones, not really a scratch but his car was totaled. Me being the deeply concerned girlfriend I was I dropped everything and drove to Vegas to bring him back home. Ok, so I was highly impulsive too. I took one of my roommates with me and we drove the 15-16 hour drive to Vegas. I got to ring in the New Year on the Vegas strip with my boyfriend. I had my drinks and some drugs too. Life was good.
After resting up from ringing in the new year, clear headed and sober, we left Las Vegas to make the long drive back to Kansas. We left in the evening. We had just passed Flagstaff, Az. It was something like 2 in the morning. No cars where on the highway. I had my Novocain, that's what I called my Chevy Nova, easily going 90mph. My boyfriend was in the passenger seat, my roommate and his friend were laying down in the back asleep. No one had on seat belts.
Then it happened. It was like it just appeared there right in front of me. A deer. A big buck. For a split second I thought of slamming on the breaks and swerving to miss it. I swear it was like something told me not to and I just took my foot off the gas, gripped the steering wheel tight with both hands and braced for impact. I hit it straight on. It literally flew over the top of the car.
I immediately pulled off to the side of the road, having no other choice, the car was dead. Same as the deer. The guys got out of the car to go check out the deer. They said it was really far away from where I had hit it, that they almost gave up looking for it. They said it's hind legs were wrapped around it's shoulders. I still don't believe that.
I never got out of the car, not until the tow truck showed up. We were really not that far from Flagstaff and it wasn't long before a highway patrol found us and did a report and called a tow truck. We spent the night in a hotel and went to see the car the next day. They said it was totaled. I got all of my things out of it. My boyfriend called a friend in Vegas to come and pick us up. He took us back to Vegas and we all flew back to Ks. Which was what I had been trying to avoid in the first place.
You can see the drops of blood on my crinkled hood.
This is why I am super vigilant when I am driving. I don't have tunnel vision. I don't just stare at the road ahead of me. My eyes are constantly sweeping side to side. I am real quick to see the glow of a critters eyes. I also know now why the days following that accident were a blur to me. I realized that if I had gone with my first instinct none of us would have lived to tell the tale. If we had it would have been nothing short of a miracle. I firmly believe that my little Nova would have rolled and flattened like a pancake if I had slammed on my breaks and swerved doing 90mph.
Everything happens for a reason.
