Drama finds me…
Hey, hey. Kaila here. Like I say Drama just seems to find me – like a freaking heat seeking missile. But like I always say – – it’s not a good story until something goes wrong…

It’s why I have so many good stories…. I have lots of material to work with… 🙂
It’s just like any other night….then
It’s just an ordinary night coming back from my friends house. On my way home. In my car. I’ve had my cute little car less than a month. I like it. Really do. It fits me just right. Perfect…..
Getting on the freeway I’m stopped at a red light. In the left turn lane. Blinker on and everything. The light turns green. I wait a couple of seconds. Take my foot off the brake.
Start to give it a little gas. Slowly pull into the intersection. Start turning left. Text book. Like driving school.
No problemo.
Until it is a problem.
What the ****!!!!!
I see lights coming at me. Fast. I slam on the brakes. Other car is not slowing down. It’s speeding up. Bam!
Other car nails me.
Hard.
My car is spun around. Like a top. Stunned. What happened? Crying.
Not going to deny it. Scared.
A man’s knocking on my window. “Are you okay?” “I don’t know.”
He helps me get out of my car. Oh my God. I’m shook up.
Pee my pants scared
Surprised I haven’t peed my pants. Thank goodness. Shaking.
Hard. Still crying. Somebody must have called 911.
The Sheriff’s Deputies shows up quick. I’m sitting on the curb. My poor car.
The cops – have you had this experience too?
Of course, the deputy talks to the other guy first. Takes his statement.
Deputy finally comes to take my statement.
Get it together Kaila, I tell myself. I take a deep breath. I tell the deputy what happened. I had the green light.
I don’t like the way the deputy is looking at me, while I’m telling him. Not good.
I’m trying to slow down. Maybe if I go over it again.
What????
The deputy, cuts me off. Tells me the other driver, an older man, swears he had the green light. He’s saying I ran the red light. It’s all my fault. “What the heck!!”
I’m trying to stay cool. “I had the green light all the way,” I tell the deputy, in between sobs. Deputy’s looking at me sideways. Like sure, it was. Right.
Lemon Face Police Officer

His lips are together, like he just bit into a lemon. Eyes scrunched together. Eye-brow cocked. “But you have to believe me. It’s true,”I protest.
Pleading isn’t doing any good with Lemon Face Deputy. Lemon Face seems to have made up his mind. I ran the red light. I caused it all. I’m shaking my head in disbelief.
Lemon Face is having none of it. He tells me, “Wait here,” as he takes his clipboard, starts to walk back to his patrol car.
Other Driver: Smirking Dude – is smirking away at me
Across the way, I can see the other driver. Smirking. For crying out loud. Smirking. Like the cat who feasted on the freaking canary.
Now I know how the carney feels.
I want to scream. “It’s not fair.” I say to Lemon Face’s back.
I glare at Smirking. I sit down on the curb. Put my head in my hands. Crying.
Thinking, I’m hosed.
Smirking is not the right name for this tool. Seems like Jackass The Movie is much more fitting.

Saved by Nice Man
The nice man, who helped me get out of my car, comes over to me. “Are you okay,” he asks. He sees how distraught I am.
Nice Guy, asks me, “What happened when you talked to the officer?”
I tell him the other driver says I ran the light and the Deputy is saying it was all my fault.
“What?” Nice Guy says. “I’ve got this.” Nice Guy walks over to Lemon Face. Nice Guy and Lemon Face walk back to Nice Guy’s car. Nice Guy is showing him something. Turns out, Nice Guy was in the car right behind me.
Dash Cam to the rescue
Nice Guy has a dash cam. Nice Guy shows the dash cam video to Deputy Lemon Face. The dash cam video shows I had the green light. It happened exactly like I said it did.
Jackass The Movie ain’t smirking no more. Jackass The Movie is caught. Red handed. Lying his… Off. Son of a… Gun.
Smirking No More is a Jackass, for sure.
But when I say that, I’m insulting jackasses. Everywhere. Sorry to all the other jackasses out there. You don’t deserve this.
It was all caused by a Bone Connection Problem – BCP, for short (driving while texting)…
My guess is Jackass either meant to run the red light, thought he could make it, or it was a bone connection problem.
You know, the thigh bone is connected to the hip bone, the hip bone is connected to the iPhone. Bad bone connection. Jackass was probably texting or something.
Nice Guy saved the day. He emailed a copy of the dash cam video to both the deputy and my Mom. My Mom emailed the dash cam video to the insurance company.
My car! My nice car. I had it less than a month. T-O-T-A-L-E-D. Done. Gone. Adios amigo. Poor car. I really liked it. Dang.
My neck finally starts to feel better. The insurance company finally sends Mom a check for my car. But. Not so good. Huh?
Now I have to deal with Mom’s guilt trip… seriously, it NEVER ends!!!
Mom now says it was my fault. My fault?
What the fudge? Check the dash cam video. Read the police report.
Even the insurance company says it was Jackasses fault.
Not to Mom. Here is Mom’s twisted logic. Get this.
I have a 10:30 p.m. curfew. I know 10:30! I’m 16… But let’s not get off on a Kaila-style tangent.
Not now. Focus.
Twisted Logic – Pretzel Logic …. only by a Mom

Back to Mom’s TWISTED Logic.
The accident happened at 10:45 p.m. After my curfew. So, it was obviously my fault.
Because if I had been home at 10:30, instead of on my way home, after curfew, I wouldn’t have had an accident.
“This is why you have a 10:30 curfew, because there are reckless drivers out late at night. Drunk drivers.” Mom tells me. “Late at night? It was 10:45 p.m. and the other driver wasn’t drunk,” I protest.
I don’t call him the J-name when I’m talking to Mom. You’ve got to pick your battles. No sense going there now. “And besides, he was texting.” You’ve got to try and control the narrative, is my strategy here.
“Same thing.” Mom continues her pretzel logic.
“But Mom, the dash cam, police report, and the insurance company all say it was the other guys fault.” I plead my case.
“Doesn’t matter, you were out after curfew.”
Don’t tell me it doesn’t suck being a teen sometimes. So because of this, Mom says I have to get a car that “stands out.” “A yellow car,”

Mom insists. So next time my car will “stand out.” “So other drivers can see it.”
Yellow? A rolling banana. Stay. Calm. I can see me rolling into the school parking lot.
“Hey, there goes Banana Girl. Nice car.” Not. Yellow. Please.
So now, Mom has it in her head I’m supposed to get a yellow car… that “stands out.”
At the car dealer with Mom
I can see it now. We’re at the car dealer. Talking to the sales person, in the parking lot.
“What are you looking for?” the smiling sales person asks.
“Oh boy. You’re going to be sorry you got us,” I’m thinking to myself. Poor Sales Lady doesn’t deserve this.
I look away nervously. I know what’s coming.
It’s not too late “run,” I thinking.
But, no. She has no idea. Poor lady.
So my mom starts off “we need a car that stands out.” The sales lady nods her head, still smiling.
Mom continues, “A yellow car… with a highway patrol style light bar on top. Sort of like a tow truck, flashing lights. With neon green wrap around Las Vegas style blinking lights… all around the outside of the car.”
Mom looks at her. Like these are normal options. Like leather seats.
Mom’s nodding her head. Clueless. Poor Sales Lady’s mouth drops. Mouth wide open. In disbelief. Eyes bugging out.
“Embarrassed, table for one”
I’m putting my hand on my forehead covering my face. “Embarrassed, table for one.”
I’m looking through my fingers. Mom’s undaunted. She continues. “And it has to get good gas mileage.” Sales Lady brow furrows. A questioning, “What are you talking about?” look.
Mom adds, “Do you have it in a hybrid?”
Sales lady glances both ways. Scratches her head. Not sure quite how to respond it seems.
So, I decide I just have to jump in, “It needs to stand out.”
As if that explains everything. Poor lady. She didn’t see this coming.
I’ll let you know how it turns out.
…..
p.s. As I say. I’m a natural. Drama seems to find me. Hunts me down. Like a heat seeking missile. Til next time. The good news is the waters still warm.
Could always be worse. Right?
I wonder if the flashing light bar is going to get in the way of my surf racks?