It was TIFF '08, I was rushing to the Swarovski opening to get these male models their tuxedos. In Yorkville. During rush hour. There was one of those orange diamond construction signs - maybe something like this:I pulled up beside it then for some reason jumped the curb and drove over it while dragging it alongside my truck. In front of a sidewalk patio - some people actually jumped up from their tables to avoid my path of destruction. Bit of an overreaction, don't you think ma'am? Once I realized what I was doing, there was nothing else to do but reverse to get off the curb and sign. That noise again, the stares, the pitiful expression on my face that I hoped said:
"Oooh, my God, I'm so sorry. This has never happened before. I'm so embarrassed, yet still fully capable, you need not worry. Eeee, sooorrry, you guys."
But coupled with the damage and the fact that I was wearing a cocktail dress and looked about 17, it probably said:
"Heee hee hee, I've never even driven before. Don't have my licence. Hahaheeha, but aren't I cute. You should all think I'm adorable and not care that some metals shards have just landed in your Cobb salad. Tee hee."
I originally started this post with the intention of writing about my truck driving experience today, but it turns out, I'm no longer in the mood. Happy trails.