Saturday night turned out to be an unusual night for the Militant. After receiving a call from an operative who wanted to go hang out and check out a DJ at a venue in a nearby suburban city, the Militant offered to drive over to the operative's Hollywood pad, pick him up and carpool over.
As most Hollywood residents know, street parking is tight and the Militant had no choice but to sit on a curb, phoning the operative to alert him he was waiting outside.
Just then, a cargo van in front of him (most likely used to transport equipment for his indie band) started to back up and before the Militant can engage in reverse...
The Militant instantly got out right away to find a tennis ball-sized gash in the front end of his car (pictured above, show in black and white in order to conceal the actual color of the Militant's auto). Turns out the van's rear trailer hitch punctured through the front of the Militant's car.
A young man soon came out of the van, equally alarmed.
Call it karma, call it irony, call it an irresistible reason to blog, but...the driver of the other car was...
"Sorry, man, I didn't see you," he said, as he flicked back his shaggy, dyed black hair.
The hipster dude was actually rather considerate and instantly volunteered to give the Militant his insurance and contact information, sans any sort of 'tude. The Militant was too busy laughing inside about the situation to actually get pissed at him.
A pair of women who rode in the van with him also came out and commenced snapping the picture of the damage with their digital cameras. One of them said, "You know, this happens a lot out here."
"Yes," the Militant thought. "Out here. This only happens out here. Because where you're from, you're more liable to get hit by a cow."
But hey, it could have been worse, no one got hurt, no one sped off or denied responsibility, and the damage is easily repairable. It's all up to the insurance companies to deal with.
What did suck was, the operative never called back. After seeing several cars zip by and wanting to avoid another mishap, the Militant left a final message to the operative telling him that he was headed back to the compound, and to call him back. Halfway back to the compound, the Militant got a text message from the flaky operative, saying that it was getting late (it was only 11:30...) and that he opted to stay home.
Some people. All that trouble for nothing. You can safely assume that the hipster driver guy was not the main object of the Militant's disdain that night.