From today’s NY Times:
Yikes! Glad I live on the second floor.
When my mom was an elementary school teacher one of her students died that way.
Some time after lunch the vic’s sister asked her to accompany sis to visit some friends. The young victim refused, saying that she had to study for an exam. She was on her bed when a dump truck lost the brakes and the driver sped up down a hill, at the bottom of which lived the 12 yo kid. The truck ended up resting on top of her bed. Nobody knew she was under the truck until after the sister returned and the family found out that they were not together. :eek:
Anyways, the moral of the story is, given the choice, never chose to study. Or something.
Yikes for both of those stories. About 6 months ago a guy plowed into my kitchen. When my husband ran outside the guys’ first drunken slurrings were a defensive “Man I didn’t hit your house!”
Then he tried to drive away but he screwed up his front tire so bad that my husband just jogged behind the truck while he was on the phone with the police.
When I was six years old, I slept through our kitchen being hit by a drunk driver. It’s not like I was sleeping out in the east wing or something; it was a little apartment. I remember being very confused when I got up that morning and my mother told me I had to put some shoes on because of the glass all over the floor.