He's going to hit us

It happened like the insurance commercials say it does. In slow motion, I saw how the cab was going to hit us.  I even said it out loud: "he's going to hit us". And he did, hard. Typical rear end accident on a Chicago rainy day.  It could have been a commercial. It happened on the emblematic Michigan Avenue. 

I saw Amelia's scared face on impact. Arms up as if being held up, followed by that fearful cry that can tear your heart apart. I get out of my SUV and check on her. She looks fine. Safe in that car seat that Steve researched his ass off about before getting. How lucky am I to have Mr. Consumer Reports for a husband? 

Then I confront the cab driver.  My CRV, which I bought from a sales guy that almost guaranteed that this thing could tell when I was going to have an accident and save my family's life, was almost intact. The cab's grill was on the ground.  The cab driver's first words: "F&^%!"  The curse word most used  by those of use who have English as a second language.  I answered: "Yeah". 

It was a stupid fender bender but I was shaken.  When something like this happens and your child is with you, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.  I took her out of the car seat while two very helpful Chicago cops got the cab driver's info for me.

Then we went to the nearest station to file a report.  That's when the funny thing happened.  There I am trying to get a scared and screaming Amelia into her stroller.  Another very nice Chicago cop is letting me invade his parking spot with all my stuff.  I told him about my fender bender and he realizes who I am.  Tells me it will be a matter of just filing a report. No biggie; just a hassel. He looks at the baby and tells me how he can't believe she's so big already. Blah, blah, blah.

As I thank him profusely for letting me take my time and I'm ready to rush into the station, he asks me for a favor. He gives me his address so I can mail him a publicity picture for his daughter and him. I said sure, but he continues his monologue under the rain about how he knows how to say my name and how his daughter doesn't. And how she calls me Ana Banana but he knows it's Ana Belaval.  It's raining on Amelia and I. He's nice and dry in his cop car. Funny, right.

Anyway, Amelia was so happy at the station, she was even laughing with the guy that hit us. She's fine, I'm fine and now, I'm having some wine. Ay Mama! Oh, and the picture will be in the mail by Monday.