Diana and I were just turning off of her street when we got behind some guy swerving a bit. I jokingly asked if the guy was drunk. When he clipped off another guy's mirror turning from the other direction, the answer was obviously yes. He did not stop.
Diana called 911, and the Cleveland police basically blew her off. I trailed him on the freeway, the opposite way we intended to go. His speed varied from 50 to nearly 80. I was not satisfied with the police response, and knew we'd be in a more caring jurisdiction. Since he turned on to 71 south, I knew he'd at least be in Middleburg before too long, where there are always cops.
But it didn't take that long. At the Snow Rd. exit, he plowed into a guardrail at nearly 60 miles per hour. He took out at least a hundred feet of it in a spectacular crash.
My first instinct wasn't to see if he was ok, but rather to feel relief that he didn't kill someone else. Another guy who stopped said he was barely conscious, and obviously fucked up drunk. The Brookpark police showed up, and we filled out statements. The cops pulled beer bottles out.
The strange thing is that I've felt so angry since then. I never actually got a look at the guy, but he could have killed a family. I understand that sometimes people have issues, but no one has any fucking right to put other people's lives at risk.
This has been one strange Christmas.