LZF

A post where I indulge in a little bit of racial profiling. 

My good friend Lisa and I have this little code phrase. The origination of the letters is somewhat obscure, and the application of the phrase somewhat more so. St. Patties day of last year, just after we’d seen Mini-Kiss live, we returned to my abode at 21:00 hours. At this point she told me that the letters LZF on a license plate made her think of me and impulsively declared that “anytime either of us see the letters on a license plate we should pray for each other” at this moment we both realized that I had LZF on my license plate so I jokingly stated that, “I guess you need a lot of prayer, huh Li?”

She left my house moments later only to promptly total her vehicle blocks away by turning it in a ditch, to awake in pristine condition in an amnesiac haze to our friend Taylor and the rest of his EMT buddies prying her out of the wreckage with the jaws of life.  Needless to say intentionally or otherwise LZF became a part of our vernacular.

Yesterday as I was driving on Hot Spring’s one “busy” multi-lane mixer I got a text from Lisa that said, “LZF, u ok?”

Immediately I looked around to ascertain that I was, in fact ok, not so much out of superstition, but just to see. Just like every morning when I wake up, “Yes, I am still here and breathing. Check. Good…now coffee.” 

Then out of nowhere my driver’s side window exploded. It sounded like a gunshot, and I was pretty sure I had been. I slowed down, and got off the bypass to check. Once I ascertained that I was in fact ok, I started searching through my phone for my glass guy’s number (yes, I have a glass guy, I’m prone), when a Black Dude pulled up kinda wide-eyed and freaked out lookin and asked, “Hey, you ok?” I said, “Yes. I’m fine, I swear. Thank you for your concern, but really I’m ok.” I’ll interpret the next series of emotions that crossed his face, “Damn, I always know’d white ladies was dangerous. Who tryin’ to bust a cap in her?! Who the hell did she piss off? I’m gettin the f-k outta here, for somebody show up to finish her off.”

Properly he assumed I’d been shot at. 

The next person that pulled up was Black Teacher Lady. She was immediately concerned. Said, “Girl, I heard that gun shot clear over from the Hot Springs High School. I know God be protectin you. Clearly, if He’s got your back, you’re ok-so I’ll keep movin.”

Properly she assumed that I’d survived a harrowing experience with nary a scratch because God isn’t done with me yet.

The last person to show up is Middle Aged White Lady in Gym Clothes, who stopped because of all the glass, and to make sure I wasn’t in shock. Firstly, if someone was going to drive through all that glass without her body standing over it then bully for them (I’d already busted the rest of it out with a hammer at that point). Secondly, I may be white, but I’ve had several other delightfully sickening life experiences before. This was kid stuff, and I wasn’t that weak. She made me call the cops, and file a report and wouldn’t leave until I did. It was cold, she was persistent, so I did. The cop and I kind of exchanged patronizing glances about her while I pretended to tell him important details of the incident, but instead was giving him the play-by-play of the glass flying everywhere, and then how I pulled out my emergency kit and busted the glass out with a hammer, and then could I go please, cuz my glass guy was waiting on me a few blocks away?

Then Lisa was excited that I had a story to tell, and we drank tea and chatted about all our “experiences” together where we were sure God had prevented us from imminent disaster, and also how much we actually hated Peoria, Illinois no matter what we told that lady the other day.

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