Some Ice Cream For Your Bruises

, , , , , , | Right | June 23, 2020

My favorite ice cream parlor is just about a twenty-minute walk from my house out of the residential neighborhood into a commercial area where two very busy streets intersect. Because of these streets, lots of drivers forget about the number of pedestrians in this area and just speed through.

On this particular day, I have just reached the parking lot of the ice cream store and am crossing it, totally legally. A car comes speeding across the parking lot and screeches to a halt — not before knocking me off my feet and onto the hood, however.

Driver: “GET OFF OF MY HOOD! OH, MY GOD! GET OFF OF IT!”

Me: *Bewildered* “I’m sorry! I—”

Driver: “F*** YOU!”

I limp away as quickly as I can with my bruised hip, before promptly realizing how dumb I was not taking his plate numbers. Feeling pretty down, I enter the parlor, where I’m a regular.

Employee #1: “[My Name]! Hey!”

Employee #2: “Are you okay?”

Me: “I got hit by a car on the way in!”

Employee #1: “Oh, my God! Where?”

Me: “In the parking lot.”

Employee #2: “I’m going to go ask [Boss] for the security tapes.”

Me: “Oh, no, it’s really okay—”

Employee #1: “And I’m going to sit you down and make you your usual. On the house.”

The boss was just as kind and concerned as the employees had been and ended up giving me two quarts of ice cream on the house. As it turned out, the guy who hit me had just stopped into the ice cream parlor himself! We couldn’t get his plates, but the employees assured me they would tell me if he came in again. I wouldn’t want to be that guy if they recognized him!

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