The past weekend was without question one of the most bizarre, and scariest, in recent memory. And based on what we did, you’d think it was just another weekend in the ‘burbs. It started off great, as we took the Kyd to Potter’s Haven in downtown Lee’s Summit. She’s a creative kid who loves craft projects, and for a few months we’ve kicked around the idea of heading there. She loved it too, other than stressing over mistakes (I told her, there are no mistakes in art, sounds good, right?)
So I’m just about done with my project, and then we hear all the dreadful yet very distinct sounds that come from one car plowing into another. Only there was one sound missing, the sound that comes after someone slamps on their break. The helpful hippies that run Potter’s Haven had the doors open to let some fresh air in, so the sounds filled the room. Everyone looked up just in time to see debris scattering throughout the street. A early model Toyota Coralla had just plowed into the back of a Pilot. The driver of the Toyota exited his car, and while everyone around was still trying to process what had just happened, the guy took off running. With blood running down his face and drops already on his shirt and shorts. Like Gump across America, this guy was sprinting away from what was left of his car. A second or so later someone said that his head had gone through the windshield.
A few other bystanders thought it was best to run after him, I didn’t see the sense in that. If this guy had reason enough to leave the scene, well then, I’m going to take his word for it and believe he had a pretty good reason to exit stage right. He either knew something that made prefer to not be around any police, or he hit his head so hard that he had no idea what he was doing. Either way, not the guy I want to chase.
So it was pretty un-nerving. The Kyd was, understandably, upset. It was hard to understand why the guy would take off, and there was the blood. 7 year old girls just don’t enjoy seeing blood, and she was very concerned for both parties. And my wife and I were pretty shaken up too, how something so violent had crashed our Kodak moment.
That was Saturday afternoon, and Sunday was a lazy day around the house. Come Sunday night, the wife and I are chilaxin on the couch, watching some “House” when the doorbell rings. It’s 10:30 on a Sunday night, and our doorbell is ringing? That’s odd. So she takes our barking dog to the back, and I open the door. There’s a 20something year old guy standing there, and a car running in the street right in front of our house. It probably wasn’t the smartest move, but I opened the door and storm door to see what he wanted.
“I’m from the AIDS Foundation of America, does anyone here have AIDS?” he asked.
“What?” I wittingly replied.
“Do you have AIDS?” he asked again.
“Um, no,” was all I responded, and he extended his hand to shake mine. Which kinda threw me off, and I know enough to understand you can’t get HIV or AIDS through a handshake. But this whole situation was creepy, so I went and washed my hand after he left.
The wife asked what that was all about, and I relayed the story. We decided to call the police, not because he did anything threatening, but it just felt like the right thing to do. I went back outside to see if they were still around, and they drove by the house again, and then sped off.
Having seen too many movies between the two of us, we saw all the different horrendous endings this story would have if we were in a movie. And like most scary movies, it turned out to be a big (thankfully) dud of an ending. Just an peculiar ending to a bizarre weekend.
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