Whatever can go wrong will go wrong,

 and at the worst possible time,

in the worst possible way

Saturday

I went back to my hometown ( Bari, south of Italy, right in the heel of the boot, just in case you didn’t know) for the weekend. In the avarage stereotype, the weekend at your parents’ is a golden time when you basically are feed, dressed and hugged all day long. Well, in the beginning it actually worked this way. I spent a beautiful Saturday with my mother: we had breakfast in a super awesome coffee shop, then we went shopping ( I bought my 20th pair of boot. Maybe I should stop, but they costed only 15 euros, can you believe it? How couldn I leave them all by themselves on that crappy shelf? ), then we went to a beauty farm and did sauna and a relax massage. For dinner we went out to a very nice bio restaurant and had smoked salmon, and angus steak, and an awesome slice of orange flavoured cheescake. Can you image a better day? I can’t. After such a perfect day I decided to go out for a beer with my best friend D. and his girlfriend so I drove with my mom’s car till D’s and then we went downtown with his car looking for the rest of the gang. After half a pint I was ready to go to sleep, but I parked my car at D’s, and so I had to wait 01.00 p.m. before reaching it. I love driving back home at night, smoking my last cigarette and singing my head out listening to Virgin radio. Everything is nice and calm as I drive coasting the sea. As I drove across the rails and turning right to reach my street, I realised all of a sudden that a car was driving against me reaching 200 km/h speed and with its lights turned off. I sheered desperatly trying to avoid the impact, thus ending up in a flower bed and scratching my mom’s car against a wall. I tried to explain my mother that she should be happy because her beloved daughter is safe, but I’m pretty sure that, if it wasn’t for the insurance, she’d lovingly kill me.