Last Tuesday was my birthday. In past years, I have planned the day out to a T, full of expectations etc, only setting myself up for disappointment. This year I learned my lesson, and did just the opposite. I expected nothing and boy was it one heck of a day.
It was all pretty normal up until about 10pm, when things just got weird. A friend of mine just finished a short film called "Zombie Roadkill' that is in the process of getting distributed. He was screening it at William Morris, a big talent agency in Beverly Hills and asked me if I could help him serve. As I politely replied to some one's question for me at the event, 'Yes serving still technically is my day job.' If I haven't mentioned it enough already in previous blogs, I am a starving artist and am always on the hunt for any extra nickle or dime. So even though it was my birthday, I agreed to help a brotha out.
I finished around 10pm and began to make my way over to meet up with some friends and hear some live Latin music. Heading East on Sunset, I reflected on the day and how lucky I felt for all the love I received, and honestly, how perfectly the day had gone. FAMOUS LAST WORDS.
For those of you that don't live in LA, Sunset is an extremely busy street, with way too much stop and go traffic. I should have known better than to go that way, but I was running a little early and sometimes I simply enjoy the lights and the chaotic, strange hustle and bustle of the Sunset strip at night.
The next thing I knew an explosion had gone off and I was surrounded by a cloud of dust. My knee was pounding with pain and Jesus Christ was walking towards me. You think I'm kidding right? Either that, or you are thinking... 'OK, she's really lost it now... Someone told her they liked her blog, and now she's talking about how she's found Jesus.' I promise you, I have not lost my mind. I am telling the truth.
I got into a car accident!! ON MY BIRTHDAY!
The car in front of me slammed on his brakes, I slammed into the back of him, and a man dressed as Jesus came to my rescue. He was a street performer, mind you, with a blog. And you better believe he gave me the name of it, after all was said and done. www.IsawjesusinLA.com. But there was no doubt he saved me. He walked across Sunset, told me to get out of the car. 4 incredibly strong men proceeded to pull over and the next thing I knew, they were clearing my broken windshield, airbag deployed, yellow tin can of a car to the side of the road.
The strongest of them exclaimed, 'Don't be scared, I had lunch with Jesus just last week, you'll be safe in his hands until the tow truck comes.' I would later come to find out that said strong man is the leading UFC fighter in the world at the moment. How poetic: Jesus and the most gruesome fighter of them all coming to my rescue. What does that mean????
Forgive me for trying to find meaning amongst all of this, but it's all just a little too symbolic to ignore. Am I wrong?
What's even crazier??? The car that I hit drove away. No police were involved. No tickets were given. It was just me and Jesus on the side of the road, awaiting a tow truck or a friend of mine, whichever came first. My oldest friend, Diana, was the first on the scene, and she made sure to get concrete evidence of the event. Henceforth, the picture at the top.
So, at this point in time. I'm really not sure how this story relates to my short or the big picture, but I just had to write it down. And remind myself and anyone else who cares, that life really is crazy and we never can tell what awaits us each day as we venture out into the world. It could be Jesus. Or a street performer with a blog.
