Cookiemonger and I had a date set up for tonight. Nothing fancy, we were going to grab some Indian food and watch Attack the Gas Station. While I made it out of work at a reasonable time and got to the train station well before the train arrived, I made the mistake of standing next to an evil bum.

I haven’t identified which particular Old World god the man must have been, but he was possibly drunk and asked me, in turn, for money, food, and cigarettes. When I told him I didn’t carry cash, didn’t have any food, and didn’t smoke, he loudly proclaimed me to be a bad man, shooed me away, and spat at me.

This was after I near him, made eye contact, and made an honest attempt to make sense of his mumbling. I greeted his requests in good humor and offered him my attention. And the jerk spat at me and cursed me. I humored his demands that I leave, and for my trouble I failed to read the signs and boarded the wrong train.

I got off at the next station and missed one southbound train immediately because it couldn’t be buggered to wait for us. I made haste to the next station to grab the next one, when a second southbound passed me by going too fast to have actually stopped at the previous station. Oh, but it stopped at the next one, and though I sprinted and yelled for someone to stop it, I missed that train, too…

In the midst of all this, I placed a call to cookiemonger to apologize for my failure to board a useful train, and a few minutes later, she called back to tell me she’d been hit by a car, an ambulance was on the way. I was certainly shocked by the news. I don’t know what was going through my head — I knew that I had to go to her somehow.

I failed to board another train properly and made a call to my mom. She came downtown to pick me up and take me to the hospital cookiemonger was eventually relocated to. I made the call to her family to let them know what happened — I’ve actually received training in how to make those kind of calls. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

From the first call, it took somewhere in the vicinity of ninety minutes to get me to her side. From there, it was another three and a half hours before we found out from “x-ray reader guy” that there didn’t seem to be any grievous damage and that we could simply leave, followed by another thirty minutes to get out of the hospital.

We stopped off by an Arby’s on the way to drop me off at home. We were all tired and put off by the experience, though cookiemonger and I kept each other entertained for most of the nearly-four hours, jawing about the usual stuff — life, video games, British comedy, movies, everything. Not the best date ever, and somehow not the worst. xD