Get the fuck out of the way!!
Whenever I'm in a hurry, I wait for no one. This is even truer when I have to pick someone up from a particular destination. When I leave the house, I’m calm and collected, but when I’m behind the wheel of my car, I’m crazy and catastrophic - the Goofy cartoon coming to life.
Impatience is a virtue of necessity.
The reason why I'm rushing is that I had to pretty myself up before I left the house. The last thing I'd want to happen is to be stopped by a police officer while looking like a coked-up insurance broker: ratty clothes, hair and teeth that haven’t seen a brush, a few flakes of powder under my nose. A much better idea is to make the effort to appear presentable. In case I’m stopped by the police, I can talk my way out of a ticket/obstacle, without having to wipe away the white residue left behind from too much partying.
Jumping into my car, turning the ignition, and cranking the a/c, I'm on my way.
But, after the first few turns, I arrive behind what will be known as the bane of my existence. A burgundy Oldsmobile Alero filled with old people - they're the only people who ever buy Olds.
On a straightaway where everyone drives at 65, even though the legal speed is 50, the driver (and judging by the tight, white curls, it’s a woman) is driving a tick below 50. Fucking cow. You're impeding traffic! If I could make a citizen's arrest, her ass would be incarcerated.
With her car on cruise control, she maintains the same speed all the way down the street. Luckily, the lane change is up ahead at the next intersection and I can merge into the oncoming lane. Maybe then I can have a little peace.
Approaching the intersection, I feel my stomach muscles tighten. Oh, no. Her brake-lights illuminate. She better not. The turn signal blinks. Oh fuck, no. Don’t you dare! She's going the same direction I am. Shit.
At the green lights, she brakes. Why is she stopping?
"They're fucking green, you fucking cow!! Move your fucking ass, now!!" I scream inside my car.
I see her head looking one way and another. What the fuck is she doing?
"You have the right of way, bitch!! You have the right of way!!" My hands are doing a tomahawk impression. My face is red, and blue veins are popping out of my forehead and neck. Not a pretty sight.
She slowly turns and I follow behind her. I change lanes before she does to try and pass her. While changing lanes, I notice her car begins to waver between the two lanes. She's trying to change lanes without a) signalling, and b) checking her blind spot. No you don’t, bitch! Speeding up to ensure both our cars are parallel with each other, I look over my right shoulder. A gaggle of old ladies.
God, don't they know to speed things up in their time of life? They should know the end is near for them. It's inevitable! You can't fight fate, ladies. And, you better not piss off fate, because he's approaching in a blue car. Do any of you want to meet your maker a little sooner than expected...?
Making sure I grab their attention, I wave my right hand and smile. Then, I turn my hand around, raise a perfectly moisturized and manicured middle finger, and mouth the words, Fuck you.
They're shocked. Or, the ones who can see me are shocked. The others probably left their coke-bottle sized bifocals at the home, or suffer from an advanced state of glaucoma. But, I don't care. By the time my brain elicits a reaction, they are long behind me.
Arriving at the train station, I stop the car in the kiss-and-go section of the parking lot. Except for the situation with the Golden Girls, everything is perfect. Not late.
Then, out of nowhere I hear the digitized voice of a man come over the sound system, "The 7:13 train is delayed ten minutes. I repeat, the 7:13 train is delayed ten minutes..."
Fuck. Why is that no one is ever on time?
Impatience is a virtue of necessity.
The reason why I'm rushing is that I had to pretty myself up before I left the house. The last thing I'd want to happen is to be stopped by a police officer while looking like a coked-up insurance broker: ratty clothes, hair and teeth that haven’t seen a brush, a few flakes of powder under my nose. A much better idea is to make the effort to appear presentable. In case I’m stopped by the police, I can talk my way out of a ticket/obstacle, without having to wipe away the white residue left behind from too much partying.
Jumping into my car, turning the ignition, and cranking the a/c, I'm on my way.
But, after the first few turns, I arrive behind what will be known as the bane of my existence. A burgundy Oldsmobile Alero filled with old people - they're the only people who ever buy Olds.
On a straightaway where everyone drives at 65, even though the legal speed is 50, the driver (and judging by the tight, white curls, it’s a woman) is driving a tick below 50. Fucking cow. You're impeding traffic! If I could make a citizen's arrest, her ass would be incarcerated.
With her car on cruise control, she maintains the same speed all the way down the street. Luckily, the lane change is up ahead at the next intersection and I can merge into the oncoming lane. Maybe then I can have a little peace.
Approaching the intersection, I feel my stomach muscles tighten. Oh, no. Her brake-lights illuminate. She better not. The turn signal blinks. Oh fuck, no. Don’t you dare! She's going the same direction I am. Shit.
At the green lights, she brakes. Why is she stopping?
"They're fucking green, you fucking cow!! Move your fucking ass, now!!" I scream inside my car.
I see her head looking one way and another. What the fuck is she doing?
"You have the right of way, bitch!! You have the right of way!!" My hands are doing a tomahawk impression. My face is red, and blue veins are popping out of my forehead and neck. Not a pretty sight.
She slowly turns and I follow behind her. I change lanes before she does to try and pass her. While changing lanes, I notice her car begins to waver between the two lanes. She's trying to change lanes without a) signalling, and b) checking her blind spot. No you don’t, bitch! Speeding up to ensure both our cars are parallel with each other, I look over my right shoulder. A gaggle of old ladies.
God, don't they know to speed things up in their time of life? They should know the end is near for them. It's inevitable! You can't fight fate, ladies. And, you better not piss off fate, because he's approaching in a blue car. Do any of you want to meet your maker a little sooner than expected...?
Making sure I grab their attention, I wave my right hand and smile. Then, I turn my hand around, raise a perfectly moisturized and manicured middle finger, and mouth the words, Fuck you.
They're shocked. Or, the ones who can see me are shocked. The others probably left their coke-bottle sized bifocals at the home, or suffer from an advanced state of glaucoma. But, I don't care. By the time my brain elicits a reaction, they are long behind me.
Arriving at the train station, I stop the car in the kiss-and-go section of the parking lot. Except for the situation with the Golden Girls, everything is perfect. Not late.
Then, out of nowhere I hear the digitized voice of a man come over the sound system, "The 7:13 train is delayed ten minutes. I repeat, the 7:13 train is delayed ten minutes..."
Fuck. Why is that no one is ever on time?
Authored by S at 12:00 am
2 Comments:
As a final thought, I do not suffer from road rage, but from a lack of impatience.
Seriously...
I've been sitting here laughing at this bonding moment. It amazes me that these older people drive 5 mph under the limit in the name of safety, yet can't manage a turn signal. When I'm in a hurry, and there are no elderly people in front of me...inevitably I run into a funeral procession (most likely for the old person I was behind last week). Apparently I am the ONLY person in town who didn't know the dearly departed, because everyone else in the city, is following the hearse and making me late to my destination!
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