First off, yesterday's quote was from Sixteen Candles. I can't BELIEVE that nobody got that. I guess I really AM old. *sigh*
So anyway, we were on our way back from the cardiologist in Ithaca on Monday, driving through all the dinkytown speed traps between there and here, and we were going through this one particular town. Candor. It was Candor. You've gotta love a town called Candor, right?
So we are driving down the main drag, doing the 30 mph speed limit, because, speed trap, and there's this dude meandering up the sidewalk with a plastic bag full of cans, collecting empties from the side of the road.
And as I'm driving toward him, he bends down to pick up a can, and just kind of ... crumples onto the sidewalk. It was this slow-motion collapse.
And I was all, like, "hahaha DRUNK!" Another plastered hobo passes out while collecting cans to pay for his next 40-ouncer.
But then I was, like, "what if he ISN'T drunk? What if he's suffering from a medical condition? Maybe I should stop!"
And you know what I did?
I kept. on. driving.
F*CK that shit. I had just gotten some very bad, awful, no-good news, I had a scared cat in the back of the car who had been in her carrier for HOURS at that point, and I kept right. on. going.
And you know what? I don't feel bad about that at all. Sue me.