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Not-so-Sunday drive
July 28, 2006
You know those moments, where as you’re living them you’re absolutely certain that you’ll look back and laugh at them later as they’re being described to wide-eyed friends, even though if anyone dares laugh at the seriousness of the situation as it’s occurring you will promptly stab them with a ring of keys? I had one of those in Washington. There were probably close to three key stabbings. I was filled with so much terror that it took me well into the night to stop shaking, let alone laugh.
We arrived in D.C. around 11:00pm. Every time I’ve visited the city in the past, the days have been sunny and peaceful and full of historicalness. I was obviously fooled by the daytime D.C. I remembered. The city at night was packed with drunks. There were fights on the corners and stumbling, perverted men groping for the groups of sluttish girls wearing three-dollar, alcohol-soaked halter tops across their chests. Any music was drowned out by the sirens of police.
I kept close to my friends. There were twelve of us. I was the only person in our group from the United States, or North America for that matter. Between us, we covered America, France, Turkey, Russia, England, Holland, Australia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Africa, and the Czech Republic. I wedged myself between two of the guys I was with and kept my eyes locked forward.
We quickly lost interest in Washington night life, and wanted to head back to the hotel after about an hour of walking through hell. Unfortunately, the subways were closed. Cabs were taking advantage of both the drunken crowds which have no regard for money and the sober crowds by charging insane amounts of cash for a trip to safety. It was then that I voiced my brilliant idea, which was not brilliant at all, but more stupid than any of the 16-year-old girls asking my international friends for cheap drugs.
I suggested that since cabs were so expensive, a few of us would take a cab back to the hotel, where I would get my car out of valet, and then return to the decided location to retrieve the rest of the group. It was never a smart idea. I realized that as soon as I stepped into the smoky cab.
Upon reaching the hotel, I begged Steph, the Australian boy, to drive back with me. I could not handle driving alone. We managed to get there without incident. I pulled up and unlocked my doors. I then realized that only five came back in the cab, including me and Steph, and that there were six more people that I needed to transport back. Therefore, as I drove, there were eight people in my little car. Three in the front, five in the back.
Fire trucks and ambulances continued to race down the streets, making it nearly impossible to get anywhere. I was breaking what felt like a hundred traffic laws at once, including having too many people for the number of seatbelts, having alcohol on my breath from tasting one of Maaike’s (from Holland) Dutch coolers, and, oh yeah, I left my license in the hotel. Police were swarming.
As I approached the crowded, one-lane main street, yet another ambulance attempted to squeeze by. I pulled close to the double-parked cars on my right, almost running over an especially large, black police officer. He peered into my car. My heart stopped. I hissed to the car, get down.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, LADY?!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“I’M WALKING RIGHT HERE! YOU CAN’T SEE ME?!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
He marched away. Tears swelled in my eyes. I have a thing about being yelled out by big men in terrifying situations. I drove on, looking for a side street to turn around in.
I turned into an alley and moved slowly to avoid the crowd. The two boys huddled in my passenger seat mockingly repeated my reaction to the large cop. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Upon reaching the end of the dark alley, I noticed a cab stalled at the end. No flashers. Just stopped. A man briskly approached my car, holding a cell phone. I quickly wound up the windows in the car, hoping to breathe among the buildup of body heat. He stood by my window.
“Yo, hey, some fuckers just pulled a gun on us in this alley. In that cab.” He pointed ahead and began pacing alongside my car.
I stared. My mind raced. Ok. So, random man, some guys threatened to kill you in this here alley. Therefore, you’re going to stop your cab right in the middle and trap another group of people in this nightmare.
My car stirred with confusion. Guys, shhh. I cracked my window and yelled at the cab ahead.
“Please move! PLEASE! MOVE!” Nothing. “MOVE THE GODDAMN CAR!”
I could feel the tension in the car. I don’t yell, especially in a terrified mixture of anger and fear. The worst-case scenarios made their way into my mind. Twelve years later, when the cab finally scooted to the right side of the road, I crushed the ignition and sped towards my beautiful, calm hotel room.
For the rest of the ride home, my hands shook and my heart pounded and I think I may have literally lost my mind. I blocked out any chatter happening in the seats behind me and after several random turns down dark streets arrived in a place in the relative vicinity of the hotel. Out of the car!
I stomped into the lobby, caught the valet, and threw him my keys.
“My car. It’s down there. On a street that has buildings and lights and the flashers are on and it needs parked. Please.”
In the safety of my room, my friends made every attempt of calming me down and making me laugh. “Rachel,” they said, “don’t you realize how amazing of a story that was? You’ll be laughing about this tomorrow.” I curled up in bed that night, completely oblivious to what was happening in the room, and thanked God that nothing happened to my friends or my car.
July 30th, 2006 at 4:26 pm
I’m sorry you had to experience such a frightening night in DC. I’m from the area and it’s generally not so scary… Any area in the city can be discouraging if it’s your first time (and even as a local I would never recommend driving), especially since it is an entirely different Universe once the sun goes down. I hope you enjoyed the rest of your stay & didn’t encounter anymore issues!
August 7th, 2006 at 8:24 pm
[...] I hopped a subway back to the hotel, turned on the TV, and crawled into bed, expecting that I somehow lost them for the night and would be spending it alone watching reruns in an attempt to avoid the nightlife of D.C. [...]