Just when I thought May 2007 could NOT get any crappier…
At 8:30 this morning I was waiting for a traffic light in Shmesani to turn green. I was on my way to work and I could see the office from my spot. The radio was on Mazaj FM (my latest fav) and there was an old song playing, and I was singing along. My Havana Brown (my car, that’s her name) was the first at the traffic light in the right lane.
There was a police woman at that traffic light, she’s always there in the morning. She usually lets cars pass disregarding the color of the traffic light. I was singing and looking at the dashboard and I was very happy. Suddenly I noticed that she was motioning to us drivers to move. I was going to move, just… almost…moving then BOOM!
A beautiful, shiny, black Nissan Xtrail jammed into Havana’s left side (the driver’s -my- side) and I saw huge chips of white paint fly all over the place. The sound was horrible and the old song I was listening to faded out and I remember thinking, literally and in English: “This is not happening.”
I stopped, as I had not yet even started to move. It took the speeding Xtrail 20 meters to stop. The police woman came to me and I opened my window. She asked me to move because I was about to create some major traffic problem at that intersection. I asked if my moving would harm the “kroka” creating process (the procedure in which a police person creates a sketch of the accident, and determines accordingly whose fault it was), and she said no, but I have to move up the street to that tree over there where there is a police man.
The Xtrail and Havana Brown moved up the street a little. Then they stopped and a foreigner came out of the Xtrail. We talked, I asked him what he did, he asked me what I did. As it turned out, the man was Scottish and working in Amman. The Xtrail was hired and he had just dropped his wife at her new job. He opened the back door of his car and there was a two year old boy strapped in a car seat there.
Yeah. Even though I am a woman, I won’t be moved by a boy in a car that has just ruined Havana Brown’s face. Better luck next time. I talked to the kid a little, and then saw the police woman. It was a good thing that there was a witness that saw the whole thing, because the Scot claimed it was not his fault that he plunged into Havana’s left side.
We argued a little. He said it wasn’t his fault, I said it was. I indicated the harsh black rub-off on Havana and told him the angle of his turn was too narrow. We were very civil about it.
I was very surprised but extraordinarily composed. I don’t think I really understood or believed the whole thing. So, I called home and asked for backup. My father came shortly and a representative of the auto hire company came as well.
We called the police. It took them about 30 minutes to show up. The officer asked about the details of the accident and I filled him in. The Scot still insisted it wasn’t his fault, and the hire company rep naturally supported him. The rep said they were “doing this” for “my sake” because the Xtrail was a hire and totally insured (in Arabic ta7meel jmeeleh.) The officer then asked to go see the scene of the crime, and I told him that a police woman saw the whole thing.
We marched down the street. The sun was hellish and the noise of the car motors whizzing by was getting on my nerves. I was growing very impatient and just wanted to sit down.
The officer listened to what the police woman had to say. Her account of the story was exactly like mine, and the officer decided it was the Scot’s fault. The rep then changed his mind and while I talked to him about the accident said that yes I was right and that it’s the narrow street’s fault (in Arabic jallas.)
We then went to the police station where the “kroka” was drafted. I got my copy, paid zilch, was still upset, the Scot paid a 30JD fine, and I headed to Havana’s insurance company. I was supposed to go to the Xtrail’s insurance company, but I figured my company will fix Havana better and then settle accounts with the other company. At least I know where my company is, it just felt familiar at a time when I did not want to deal with strangers anymore.
In these situations, you really appreciate your comprehensive insurance plan. The people at the insurance company were extra nice and extra helpful. I stripped Havana bare of my personal belongings, laptop, bags, papers, tapes, leather gloves, makeup (don’t ask), gum… And I left her there and they said they will take care of her.
Do I hate Nissan Xtrails now?
No.
Do I hate Scots?
No.
Do I hate stupid Jordanian roads?
YES.
Oh right, and to make the affair a lot more interesting, the Scot works in the opposite building — right across the street from my office. But who cares, really? He dislocated Havana’s face and she’s gone now…And I just want to sit down.
