The Best Day Ever

Are you okay?

Are you guys okay?

I saw him, he pulled over by CVS.

I’m calling the police.

ARE YOU OKAY?

That’s all right, honey, you just breathe.

Put it in neutral—we’ll push you out of the intersection.

Neutral, not park.

Oh, it is? So why won’t it move?

You’d better get out of the car, there’s something leaking from the bottom. Was the air conditioning on?

Put your hazards on.

He just took off, but it’s all right, I got his license number.

You guys should come over to the side here.

Are the police coming?

See right here? The wheels won’t move because they’re both facing in—the right one got hit by the other car—that’s why. Was the air conditioning on? At all? Because… I know cars—I do cars. Oh, you’re so welcome.

Are you okay? Nobody hurt?

There come the fire truck.

You all right, ma’am? You both all right? Do you want me to check you? You sure? Where’s the other car? He’s gone?

Hey! Hey, Wengers! Do you guys want a ride home? I can pull around into the parking lot. You sure? Okay, take care!

Have you called a tow company? Good. We’re going to park the truck right next to you and place flares so nobody hits it twice.

Are you both all right?

Ah, here come the police. That’s all right, it was my pleasure. You just focus on the positive energy inside you.

What exactly happened, ma’am? And may I see your license and insurance information?

This has today’s date on it… Right now? You were on your way back from the BMV? Well, that’s funny. Well, not funny, exactly…

I wish that guy who just yelled out of his window had honked, too. Then I could have ticketed him.

Have a better day!

As the policeman pulled away with a wave out the window of his squad car, I thought about the phrases he must use with great care. Often, I’m sure, he can’t say, “have a good day.” “Have a better day” is a safe bet, in his line of work.

But as he rolled off, I wrapped my arms around my sister and thought that I was already having one of the better days of my life. My sister was fine, and had come through that terrifying half second when another car was heading into her side, a half-second in which I’d frantically thought, “Quick, we have to switch sea—“ She’d emerged with nothing more than laughter at the hysteric intensity with which I asked her, again and again, if she was okay. I was fine. Our car was even mostly fine, despite a severed tire rod that wouldn’t let it move.

In fact, it was one of the best days ever. A day of might-have-been gone fine. A day of pure appreciation for humanity, as I watched Columbusers filled with grace trying to help total strangers, a day of hugging my sister and loving her body for housing her spirit with such care, a day of touching base, in probably very incoherent ways, with the people that I suddenly needed, urgently, to touch base with, a day of deeply grateful conversations with G-d. A day I didn’t die. One of the best days ever.

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My sister just called me a drama queen for writing the above. Here's her take on the day:

You get into a car crash on your way home from renewing your license and about ten different Ohioans of every age, gender, and race converge around your busted vehicle to offer unsolicited love and advice. Somebody got the plate number of the dude who hit you, someone else is recommending “positive energy,” a homeless woman is giving the bemused cop testimony even though she didn’t see the crash, the Donatos pizza man is hugging your hyperventilating sister, and three skinny guys are trying to push the car out of the intersection. A fabulously hot fireman offers to “check you out” for injuries, and when your sister says no need, you’re like, “Oh, but… Okay.” 

Never change, Columbus.