So. Today while I was driving to pick Sarah up from school, I was rear ended. John and I are totally fine. The van is fine. The other guy is fine.

Wait. No. No he is notfine. He is a dirty rotten scoundrel. He is a player, said like this: playah.  He is a liar with a capital L. And I? Am angry. ANGRY.

I stopped for construction. He did not. So he hit me. It was no big deal. I called Sarah’s school and told them I’d be late. I called my husband and asked what I should do — I admit that I was probably a little panicked. He told me what information I needed etc. There is little to no damage to the car and nobody is hurt, and the police really don’t come out for accidents like that around here, so at that point I didn’t think to call the police. Here’s a Public Service Announcement: Get hit? Call the police before you even leave the car. The End.

Playah and I pull into a parking lot. This is the only brownie point the guy gets. He didn’t take off, which he totally could have. He gives me his info and I hand him mine. As I’m writing his down I start chatting him up. “Is this you?” I ask of the name on the insurance. “It’s my dad.” Kay. But wait, it expired in December. He says he has the up to date one, he just hasn’t put it in the fancy sleeve yet. Seeing as I had to hunt for mine and do the same thing, I totally buy it. *slaps self in the face*

I get his phone number, license plate number and take pictures of our cars. Then he says, “Would it be cool if we just said my dad was driving?”

Uhm, NO, no it would not be cool. So I say, “No, no, it would not be cool. Why would I do that?” And Playah says, “Because I don’t have a drivers license.”

*slaps self in face multiple times, very, very hard*

I said, “Can I ask why you don’t have a drivers license?” And Playah said, “Oh, immigration took it away from me.”

Really? I’m supposed to believe that your father has car insurance and you had a drivers license but then did something wrong that caused immigration to take just your drivers license away? OMG.

I backed away from him, nodding, said, “Okthanksbyegottago.” and jumped in my van. I wanted to call the police, but didn’t think Playah would exactly wait for them. So I picked up Sarah, came home and called my husband. And promptly fell apart.

Then I called the called the police.

They told me what to do. So I called Playah, who amazingly, answered his cell phone. I told him we had to make a police report. He balked. Tried to talk me out of it. Then said he had to call work and see when he could meet me there. Then called me back and tried to get me to  let him ‘take care of it. Get three estimates. We’ll take care of you. My insurance will go up. I know you don’t care, but I’ll take care of you.’ Then he mentioned something about me stopping short. And you guys? Momma Bear came out like I never knew she existed.

I started crying, but my voice was firm and I just railed at him. I said, “Playah, don’t even go there. You rear ended me. You were driving without a license and you.hit.me and I had my baby in the car. My baby. And you hit me. And you? Don’t.have.a.drivers.license. So don’t talk to  me about how you’re going to take care of me. I’m taking care of this. I’m taking care of this by going to the police department and making a report. And now you need to be a stand up guy and do the right thing. So be that guy. Be him. Or don’t. But I’ll be there at 1:30 and if you’re not, the accident will be listed as a hit and run. And I have all your information. So I’d really, really be that guy and do the right thing.”

ME!! I really said all that. I’m all that and a bag a chips. Yes, yes I am.

Then, I called my husband and cried some more.

I went to the police station, and shocker, Playah did not show. I gave them his information. The police officer punched in the plate number and smiled. Smiled. And said, “Playah was driving?” I said yes he was. She asked me to look at the computer screen to verify a picture of him. I looked at the picture, and I guess I had funny look on my face, because after I said it was him, she smiled and said, “That wasn’t his license photo.” I said, “Uhm, no. I kind of figured that out. Because my drivers license photo? Doesn’t include a picture of my calf and the tattoo on it.” But his mug shot does.

He’s what they call a repeat offender. Yeah, go big or go home. So Playah didn’t show up because he has multiple warrants out for his arrest for driving without a license.

So . . . .What did you learn today, kids?