A little past midnight, maybe, as I was walking home from Will's place—the usual route, down Northcliffe to Cote St-Antoine and along it to Sherbrooke and along it to St-Marc—I was crossing Metcalfe when I saw a car, a white Chevy Aveo, I think, coming north. It's a stop-sign intersection, but the guy wasn't slowing down, so I stopped around the halfway point to let him pass. As he came closer, without slowing down, he swerved toward me. I only had a second or so to jump backwards, out of the way. I was listening to Wavering Radiant, the new ISIS record, and the volume was a little higher than it usually is because I'd been taking the Metro earlier. The aural disconnect the music provided made it a really strange experience. I didn't get much of a look at him as he whipped past me, other than to see that it was a guy with dark hair, and that he was alone in the car. If I'd been a little slower, or he'd been going a little faster, he would have hit me for sure. I don't think it would have killed me, but I'm not really an expert on car accidents. I had my cell with me, anyway, and I knew enough about the area to have told the operator where to send the ambulance, assuming I'd retained consciousness. I say this because I can't imagine the guy would have stuck around. As it was, I could tell despite the music that he didn't even honk. It was really surreal. I turned around and caught a glimpse of the car as it turned north at the next cross street, which is Forden. I don't think he slowed down at all.
A block or two later I passed the police station I visited when I was in kindergarten. I still remember venturing into a cell with a few other kids and having the cop jokingly lock us in. I can't remember whether or not I got a chance to grip the bars, though. I wondered to myself whether, had I not been recently arrested, I would have ventured over to the parked police car at the corner and talked to the cop inside about it. It's strange how little things affect our perceptions.
I wrote a sort-of will before going to the demonstration. At the time, it was in case I got hit in the head with a rubber bullet, but I guess it would work just as well for noiseless car accidents, too. Maybe when the semester's over I'll look into making it legal. I don't know why then; it just seems like a better time.
I wonder where that nutjob was going, anyway, and why he had to drive so fast to get there. Maybe it's a good thing that I don't have a license. I'm always running behind. God knows I would try to make up for it by speeding down quiet night streets every now and then.
When the ink dries, we'll have another bastard's peace.
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