3. Don't Cry. It Makes You Look Guilty.

i hate stereotypes.

just about the only thing i hate more than stereotypes is realizing that i fit some of them.

...i'm an Asian woman driver.

that being said, you might find it hard to believe that, throughout my entire driving career, i've only ever gotten 1 ticket (for parking) and i've only been in 1 accident.

granted, the accident was a stupid one.

but i learned a lot from it.

back in high school i was still under the impression that a.) stereotypes count for nil, and b.) yes, i can in fact use some sort of Jedi/Martial Arts/Yoga extra-sensory perception that allows me simultaneously drive and operate a cell phone.

and one morning, i was proved wrong.

we were stopped in traffic.

the car in front of me - a brand-new Mercedes - inched forward.

as i was looking down, trying to figure out how to work my poor-man's version of the iTrip, all i saw out of the corner of my eye was the sudden movement of the red brake lights ahead of me.

i accelerated.

and heard a crunch.

and, immediately, started to cry.

not because i was in pain.

or because i might have damaged the car.

and not because i was embarrassed.

but because images of my angry, Korean mother flooded my mind and i could already feel the raw sting of a bare hand on my stupid ass.

...or a flyswatter...

... and i could already hear the foreign obscenities ringing in my ears.

but i had to call her.

she was the only one at home.

so, sobbing, i pulled over to the side of the road, got out, walked up to the other car to make sure they were alright, and pushed "Call."

"Mommy?" i said, pitifully.

"...Yes?" she already sounded suspicious.

"I...got into a accident."

a long pause.

"What KIND obah acceedent?"

i tried to choke back some snot before replying, "...Car..."

a long, angry sigh.

"Where. Ah. You."

i told her.

she yelled through the phone and assured me she'd be there soon.

i waited.

after about 10 minutes, i saw her car pull up behind mine.

the door opened slowly.

she got out.

slammed the door shut.

her feet crunched loudly on the pavement as she made her way toward the passenger side of my car.

still sobbing, trembling, i opened the window and looked up.

her hand was raised and pointed, and she looked ready to scream.

i'd never seen her so pissed in my entire life.

she had Angry/Non-inebriated Asian Glow.

but she hesitated.

considered me a moment, in my most pathetic state: puffy-eyed, shaking, not a dry spot on my face.

spring and fear-induced snot dripping down to my chin.

...a crease between her eyebrows relaxed a little.

she sighed again:

and sure enough, i was "at fault."

lesson: learned.

and she never mentioned the accident ever again.