Honey, We Got Hit by A Horse
First things first. Contrary to the rumor circulating far & wide, I did not retire from blogging. I just haven’t had anything interesting to say for the past 6-months. Plus, as long as we’re being honest, I’m not a good blogger. And with Twitter taking any “big” ideas I might have and stripping them down to 140 characters or less, well…I just haven’t had much to say.
And then I got rear-ended by a runaway horse and carriage last weekend.
But first, before I get to the story, I have one more thing to say: I took a new job back in May that deals heavily in “all things internet”: Social Media (Twitter, for example), Blogs, Discussion Forums, Video Sites, etc, etc. As a result of my “new & improved” internet skillset, I’ve learned a lot of things about what it takes to be a good blogger. For example, all the blogging guru’s say that you’ve gotta have consistent posts, updated regularly with short, “bite sized” sentences, liberal use of video & pictures, bulleted lists with post titles indicating that there is a bulleted list of short, bite-sized sentences, combined with heavy use of video & pictures, relevant and topical SEO tags, etc, etc.
Well fuck you, and the blog you rode in on, Mr/Mrs “5 Ways to Expand the Readership of Your Irregular but INSANELY Fucking Interesting Blog About Whatever the Fuck it is You Write About”, blog “Guru”. Nobody reads my stuff anyway (with the exception of my mom: love you mom!), and besides, I like to write. I like to write in long, complex, multi-layered sentences with complimentary yet differing themes, often in parallel, though sometimes taking internally-consistent, self-referential detours that can be thought of as – and sometimes are – footnotes, and then blending them together in a manner that is both fluid and engaging so that on one hand, the reader actually has to work a little bit to figure out what the fuck the idea was that I was trying to develop in the first place, but on the other hand, not so long that he/she gets completely lost and loses interest in the process. So if you came here looking for short, bite-sized sentences with lots of video and pictures, and a sexy, “7 ways to stop sucking at being you” title, you’re reading the wrong author. Then again, I am essentially talking to myself.
Anyway, so there I was at the corner of Wyandotte & Ward Parkway, “on the Plaza”, in Kansas City, MO.
I’m about to turn right on Ward Parkway, and I hear a commotion behind me. The commotion sounds like people screaming, and I’m fairly certain I can determine that the people screaming are women. The commotion also sounds like a horse that has gone into full-bore, “Pissed off Gregory Hines” mode, and is clomp, clomp, clomping his four-legged ass off. I look up into my rear-view mirror, and see a horse (white) pulling a carriage (white), with 4 people (white) in the back. The people are screaming. The people are women. There is no driver. The women are screaming because there is no driver. The horse is running/trotting/galloping, etc, but whatever the fuck it is that horses do, he/she (I didn’t look) was doing in earnest, directly towards me.
My first thought was to turn onto Ward Parkway. “Better turn Pants”, I thought to myself. Actually, that’s not true. I never refer to myself in the third person, and even if I did, I’d never refer to my alias-self in the third person. What I really thought was, “What. The. Fuck? Is going on?” And then I thought, “I better turn.” And then I thought, “But if I do, who’s gonna stop that horse?”
And so it came to pass that the horse, who was truly and veritably having a conemption-fucking-fit, did, on his/her own accord and motivation, endeavor to successfully dodge my stationary vehicle, though – in all the excitement – was not successful in ensuring that the carriage also steered clear of the danger zone (i.e., my stationary vehicle), and thusly ran his little charriot directly up the ass-end of my Honda.
My buddy (Sully), who was on the phone with his wife at the time, answered her inquiry as to the cause of the commotion she heard on his end of the line by simply saying, “Honey, we got hit by a horse, I gotta go.”
After the impact, all I could do was get out of the car and watch the horse run – as fast as a horse pulling a carriage with 4 people in it can run – down Ward Parkway, and towards the sunset.
Apparently, as I understand it, some hero – some total bad-ass who NEEDS to step forward and who simply MUST be allowed to drink for free at any place on the Plaza, every August 12th from now until eternity – stepped out of the crowd and grabbed the reins of this out-of-control horse, and (I’m not bullshitting here) probably kept those people from getting seriously injured. Dude, whoever you are, “You ‘da Man!”
At this point when I tell the story, everybody asks, “Is the horse OK?” Yes. The horse is OK. Last I heard the horse walked into a bar (clearly depressed at the very real prospect of losing his job) at which point the bartender said, “Hey buddy, why the long face?”
One last thing: As soon as this happened I thought, “I’ve got to be the only guy since the late 1870′s who’s been the victim of a hit and run (“hit & gallop”, whatever), but when I searched on Google I was surprised by how often this occurs.
Don’t fuck with horses.
Note: No animals and/or people were harmed during the story, or the replication of the story.