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A mummy-hand holding, (former) biker gang affiliating, hippie influenced semi crunchy granola mom's ramblings and reminisings on an off-kilter life

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Dodging a bullet

I dodged a bullet in a gang fight.
True story.

I was clubbing with friends in Hollywood and the bars were closing so we decided to hop in the car and head home. I'm not sure why we drove West on Sunset instead of East, towards home, but all roads connect to freeways that lead home I guess.

We were stuck in the party rush hour I two in the morning, stopped at a stoplight by a gas station. Bored of traffic and tired of being cramped in the back seat, I stared out the window to entertain myself. Outside my window was a corner gas station and a sedan was parked by a station. No big deal, regular sight. A dark suburban sped in from the road parallel to us and screeched to a halt behind the sedan. Some large baggy pants men leaped out, engine still running. The light a car ahead of us was red. One man reached out and rat-a-tat-tat, gunfire echoed out in automatic rapid fire at the sedan, as its passengers hopped I to the car.

The light was still red. We were stuck and everyone knows if you shoot one handed and sideways to look all cool and gang banger-y, you cannot get proper aim. Our car was probably 20 feet and 30 degrees outside the barrel of the handgun. I screamed "duck!" As if ducking would save us; I guess it was sheer instinct. Just then the light turned green and cars slowly moved forward.

Maybe it was little old small town me, but it seemed like the city folk were too calm, as if this was a daily occasion. "Oh, Maria, look, gunfire. You know, I am in the mood for a Big Gulp." "Sorry John, I didn't hear that over the gunfire can you repeat it?"

I feel very lucky the gang banger could aim, and this didn't shoot us, and that he was a crappy shot because when I daringly looked back, there were no men down. So everyone lived.

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