I wish I was joking. I really do. But I’m not. So here’s the story, and what I learned in the aftermath. (I promise I’m not hurt!)
Friday night was the birthday celebration of my lovely roommate from Florence, Ananya. The night began at Lips NYC in Greenwich Village/West Village and after a FABULOUS dinner (totally not exaggerating either) we headed to the East Village for drinks. Now, I will admit I had some drinks at dinner and half a glass of champagne at the bar, but I was not drunk as I left the bar at 1:30 am to walk home to my Union Square abode.
I was on the phone with my best friend from home, discussing life and her eventful/fun evening, when I reached Union Square East on 14th Street. I had a walk signal so I continued walking west. And then…”Oh my God!”
A car making a left turn (illegally) onto Union Square East hit me. They weren’t going fast. They stopped immediately and got out of the car. The thing is that I got knocked down but just got right back up. My shoes were knocked off me and I was in total shock. I said to Brittney, “I just got hit by a car, I’ll call you back.”
Read the rest after the jump…
I was in total shock, but felt ok. My head hurt-from hitting the ground-but I was ready to walk home. The people in the car bought me some water at Walgreens and talked with me. They offered to drive me home. I was debating if I should go to the hospital or not-just to get checked out. But I opted to go home. I got in the car-that just hit me-and went home. I got the driver’s name and number, as well as the make of the car/color/what state it was from. They were genuinely nice and offered to take me to the hospital later if I wanted to go.
As I exited the car I realized what happened. I walked into my building-went straight to Public Safety (I live in NYU Housing) and told them what happened. They called the RA on Duty and an ambulance. I text my roommate, she joined me in the lobby.
The EMTs showed up-which is when I found out that police, firefighters and an ambulance had gone to the scene of my accident. I’d seen them-but they went a block too far north, I didn’t realize that they were there for me! Anyway, my cute EMT checked my vitals and said I looked fine but I should probably get checked anyway, I agreed, so off to the hospital we went!
The cop that took down the incident was upset that I didn’t have the plate number, which led me to feeling guilty for a couple days. I will spare you all the details of the ER, especially since this post is getting long, but it was full of crazies. A woman was “crying” out in pain, another peed her bed and then left, a guy was talking to himself…you get the picture. My nurse was AWESOME-sooo cool, loved that guy, and my doctor/physician’s assistant-whatever his title is, was sweet and cute (I totally want to hook him up with my friend). My doctor deemed me totally fine-he saw no bruises or swelling and told me that I’d just be sore for a few days. That was TOTALLY right.
I got home at 5 am and was a basketcase all of Saturday. But I’m fine! I kicked myself for not getting the license plate number (the cop that took my report was quite frustrated) or for just staying at the scene of the accident but I was in total shock. It’s still kinda unbelievable that it happened.
Today, Thursday, a detective called me from the precinct to ask me what happened. I told her. She then proceeded to get upset with me that a police report was filed. Apparently, it was listed as a hit and run and was an open case. She said that there was no reason for the police to even be called, why did I call them? I honestly didn’t, as I’ve stated and I told her that possibly Public Safety must have called when I asked for an ambulance to take me to the ER. There was an accident but there was apparently some miscommunication/communication break down between myself, the officer that took my report and the detective that it was a hit-and-run. It wasn’t my fault at all, yet, I was berated for even calling the cops. She stated that they are busy and didn’t have time for cases like this, which shouldn’t be filed. I apologized but again, I never asked for this, so please, don’t yell at me. I’m the victim. I’m an innocent bystander. And yet, I’m the one in trouble? This logic makes no sense to me.
Lessons learned: stay at the scene of the accident, get all the info from both parties, it takes the police DAYS to generate your police report number, be careful when crossing the street even if you’re in the right of way and the NYPD needs some compassion lessons. I’ve been pretty cautious since Friday night, but at the same time, I wasn’t the one doing anything illegal so my habits won’t change that much-except that I now mentally tell every car “Please don’t hit me” if it’s getting too close, aka 8 feet away. The scene of the crime will from now on be called “The Crosswalk.” I have yet to cross on the north side of the intersection, even my roommate is avoiding it, maybe I’ll face my fear after Spring Break and cross there again, or maybe I’ll just find new routes to everywhere I go.