The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Valentine's Day

"For whatever elicits great love will invariably call forth hatred also."
-- Salman Rushdie

Today I talked about Valentine's Day with Zzyzx, and we both agreed that it's a no-win holiday. If you're single and without a date, Valentine's Day only serves to make you dwell on your singularity when you otherwise might not feel so bad about it. Yet if you're in a relationship, there's all this pressure to come up with some incredibly romantic hijinx for your partner on Valentine's Day. Ideally Valentine's Day should be a good excuse for you to simply show your love and affection for someone in your life. But it's never quite that simple, is it?

Normally I couldn't care less one way or another about Valentine's Day. But this year I found myself wishing I just had a date. That's all. I don't need cards, flowers, chocolate, or an expensive dinner. Well, ok, chocolate is never a bad idea. But just a date would have been fine with me.

In lieu of romantic hijinx, I decided to celebrate by taking the day off from my day job. Of course, I still had to work. I spent most of the day putting up this most recent and glorious issue of Jambands.com. But before I got down to HTML, I decided to run some errands. So I got in my car and the tape deck still had the copy of Grateful Dead 2/13/70 that I slipped in the day before. Oh yeah, baby. Dark Star. It was a gorgeous Hawaii morning. The sun was bright and not too hot, a light breeze floated through my windows, just a few fluffy clouds dotting the deep blue sky. At that point, it could have been any other day as far as I was concerned.

After scurrying around town, I decided to stop at the market and buy myself some flowers for Valentine's Day. Does that make me a pathetic old maid? Maybe. But I found some gorgeous white tulips. Tulips are my favorite. So I put two bunches in my basket, paid for them, and went on my way.

The parking lot outside the market was jammed. Cars were lined up in the rows, waiting for other people to leave. A green minivan ahead of me pulled up behind a parked car. I saw him drop off a passenger at the front of the store, so I assumed he was going to wait in the car line for a parking spot to clear. I pulled around to the left of the line of waiting cars and drove forward. I only got about 50 feet ahead when the green minivan of me decided to pull out. I was well beside his car at that moment.

I didn't see it coming. But I heard the metal crunch.

Happy freakin' Valentine's Day.

That was my first thought. But I couldn't let something like this ruin what had started out as a pretty good day - despite not having a date. Or even chocolate. But I had tulips. I was in a good mood. My tape deck was still sounding out Jerry's melodic noodling. Hey, accidents happen; we've all done something like that at one time or another. So I pulled over to the side and got out of my car. The green minivan pulled up behind me and a man about 65 years old got out. I smiled at him. Before I could say a word, he began yelling at me.

"You hit me!" he shouted accusingly. "Why are you speeding through this parking lot?"

I was astonished.

"What are you talking about?" I asked him, "You hit me, sir. You pulled right into the side of my car."

"No, you hit my car!" he demanded.

"Uh, no I didn't," I replied.

I looked at the side of my car. It was dented and scraped from the rear bumper to the passenger door. Not good. Yet truthfully I would have been happy to just let it go. I don't deal well with police and insurance companies. Besides, over the years the car I drive has turned into a junker beach-mobile. This other guy, however, was in quite a state. After he tired of yelling at me, he got out a rag and started compulsively polishing the finish on his vehicle. I thought that was an odd thing to do under the circumstances. It really made me wonder what kind of strange values we place on things like cars.

I admit I tend to be rough on cars. I drive fast, I don't maintain my car as well as I should, I take it up and down the steep hill where I live several times a day. And a car certainly isn't an image thing for me. The way I see it, that metal exterior is there not only to hold the parts of the car in one place, but also to protect me. Like anything else, if you use a car, it's going to wear and tear. Dents, dings, and scrapes - to me - are just evidence that you're actually on the road driving your car. I don't understand people who obsess over every nick and rattle on their vehicles. But I guess they are the same kind of people who never wear their nice jewelry. They'd rather keep the diamond ring in the jewelry box so it doesn't get damaged, lost, or stolen.

In any case, I certainly didn't want to be accused of causing an accident when clearly it wasn't my fault. And for all I knew, this guy could start clutching his neck and screaming priest.

"I'm going to find security and we'll report this," I told him, as he polished and wiped.

I found a rent-a-cop who called a squad car, which arrived shortly. The officer acquired our documents and filed a report. It turns out the guy who hit me was driving with an expired license and got cited for it. Can you say karma, boys and girls? Sure you can.

<smug> All of my stuff was up to date and legal. </smug>

The good news is that the man who hit me is insured by the same company who insures my automobile. There shouldn't be too much trouble getting this resolved. Also I think I handled it well. I didn't get upset. I didn't even get angry. Maybe I have that Dark Star to thank for my Valentine's Day attitude adjustment.

So I didn't have a date. Instead I'm writing this column, listening to some tunes, and watching the moon set into the ocean from my bedroom window. I have tulips on my desk. It wasn't a great day, but it certainly wasn't worthless. Besides, there's always next year. Maybe next Valentine's Day I'll get lucky and I'll have someone who will take me out on a date. We'll take his car though.