The Queso of the Six Car Pileup

I was going to have dinner with my sister and some friends the other night. I was driving west on I-10 at 6:30 PM. Most of us Houstonians know that driving I10 is always a stupid idea, therefore I apologize to those of you who were on I10 at that time for legitimate reasons. Meaning, you were taking the only route home you had.

Suddenly, the cars in front of me stopped short. About three of them. And I slammed on the brakes (saw the smoke from the skid), and swerved into the right lane. I thought, "Whew, I made it," as I heard cars behind me piling up.

But then I was hit from behind, a la domino effect. The car that hit me pulled around, side-swiped me (taking off my side-view mirror), and took off. I pulled over to the side of the road, and started a momentary panic.

There was white stuff everywhere. For a moment, I thought, what the hell? Then I realized, the queso I was bringing to the party exploded everywhere due to the force of impact. When I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. In the tape deck (yes, my car is older, back off), under the buttons of the radio, in the defrost vents, in the air vents, in the stick shift, on me, on the bar that moves the seat back and forth, in the rear view mirror, on the seat... essentially, it was in every conceivable place.

I got out, and discussed the situation with the three other drivers involved... two had fled the scene. I asked, does anyone have tissue or paper towel? They all looked at me, eye brows raise to ask, "Um... why?" Hurriedly I explained, "I had some queso in my front seat and it's all over." Someone said sure and got me her half-roll of paper towel. No one said much else.

That half roll was not going to be enough. But it was enough to get the glob off of my windshield. It took the entire half roll to get that part.

While we waited for the police to arrive, I picked up my side view mirror and called the insurance company. While detailing the damage, I said:

"There's also some damage to the inside to consider. I had some queso in the front seat and it's everywhere."

"I'm sorry can you say that again?"

"There's queso, cheese."

"I still don't think I'm getting it. Can you get in your car and say it again?"

"I am in my car and you heard me... there's cheese everywhere. I was going to a dinner at my sister's house."

"Cheese. Everywhere. Got it."

Awkwar silence. Then typing. I can hear her thinking... "Cheese. Ok. Cheese."

Finally the other accident participants came over to see my car. They started with a giant belly laugh. "We thought maybe you hit your head. You do have queso everywhere, don't you?"

I said, "I have a bag of Fritos if you want some."

When all was said and done, I went home where Matt had the camera waiting to take snapshots of the queso for insurance purposes. Somehow, I know these will come back to haunt me at some surprise birthday party for a number divisible by 10.

I didn't want to leave the cheese in the car uncleaned, as I wasn't going to drive with schmear of dairy all over the windshield and grease on the stick shift. I didn't think it safe (although I am driving my white trash car without a side-view mirror currently, safe is sometimes relative). Besides, it's Texas. And it's hot as blazed. I was worried the cheese might actually...well...burn.

I have given it careful reflection. Retribution is hell. And this was a case of retribution. I was passing this queso off as my own. I opened a jar, put it in a nice dish, and planed to call it my own. This was wrong. I see that and accept that. And as a result, I am paying for my lies, half-truths, and falsehoods by having to smell that sickening cheese smell every time I open my car door. It's worse when the car's been sitting in the sun all day. There's booger-like globs that appear when I push the radio button or open the glove box. Occasionally, I find a crusted tomato or pepper that I need to scrape off with my thumb nail. I think: ah retribution.