Tick another experience off the very long list of things that have never happened to me because last night, a guy puked on my car. What makes this particular incident unique is that it didn’t happen at the curb, it didn’t happen in a parking lot; it happened at 60 Miles per hour.
As I was merging onto the freeway after our Midnight Show Saturday, I noticed a ball of some kind hanging out of the passenger window of a car in the right lane. As I pulled in behind the car, something a bit more viscous blended with the road spray and spattered on my windshield. That’s when it occurred to me that the ball was not a ball at all, but rather a bald, lolling, drunken head that was heaving out the booze that its body couldn’t metabolize. It also became clear that my windshield wipers were painfully ill-equipped for such an event. Thank God for road spray.
The spew was shortly followed by what appeared to be fast food napkins that were no doubt used to blot the remnants of his partying from his chin and shirt. I suppose it could have been worse; it could have been his other end that exploded. Had this occurred, due to the trauma, I fear my wipers would have stopped working completely.