Crash into me

On a Friday morning in May, I was on my way home from recording an INtown Insider podcast when I was in a car accident, which wasn’t my fault.

It took nearly two hours for the police to arrive to write a report because the Atlanta Police Department is understaffed and was dealing with both a MARTA bus accident and the Shaky Knees Festival. I understand that a car accident is minor stuff, especially when no one is injured, but two hours is insane.

The driver at fault turned across three lanes of traffic to get her two-piece and a biscuit from Popeye’s (Yes, I know the chicken is good, but seriously!), totaled both of our cars, didn’t have her driver’s license or proof of insurance, then left the scene before being brought back by her frightened mother.

That same evening, I wound up at urgent care because my ankle had swollen up because I jammed my foot trying to stomp on the brake and avoid the collision. The next day, I had to go to Nashville for a friend’s 50th birthday party and had to hobble around Music City all weekend.