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Today, we came around the row in the parking lot to find a man lying on the pavement. We missed seeing him actually get struck by the woman pulling out by about two seconds. This is literally twenty minutes after I made fun of my husband freaking out because he forgot his cell phone at home.
I jumped out of the super white Prius and ran to the nearest store, where I called 911.
By the time the cops and ambulance and fire department and three ring circus came, the guy got up and hobbled into the grocery store. My guess, since he couldn't get up initially, was that he was in some type of shock. He wouldn't let us stop him, though. The woman that hit him was very good and talked to the police, and then they went into the grocery store to find him.
You know, I've only called 911 twice in my life now. It's easier to call them when you're pissed off at a bunch of kids pelting stuff at patrons than it is in a life or death situation.
I'm not a great communicator. I never have been. I lose words a lot, and say things backwards a lot, moreso when I'm nervous. I think it's neurological. Anyway. I found myself trying to describe how to find a guy in the middle of a non-descript parking lot. I should have said, "He's right by the super white Prius." I found myself tripping over words and getting the poor operator mighty confused.
Not as shaken by this as seeing the man get hit by the train (what is it with me seeing people get struck by large moving vehicles?) Oddly enough, the train man survived as well.