I've vented my frustrations earlier on this blog about DC drivers.
This morning I was cut off by a man wearing tweed and a Lucky Strike helmet on a vespa.
It wasn't just that I was cut off by a Don Draper-wannabe, and it wasn't just that he was in a vespa. There was more. There was sidling. He sidled up next to the car, and then when the light turned green, he not only cut me off, but he had to turn sideways to do it and wound up perpendicular to me. And then he sat there for a while, confused as to how to face forward again as the light turned from green to yellow. When he could finally right himself, the light had turned red.
If any of you have a particular type of father, you know exactly the type of look I'm about to describe. I can't do it on command; it only happens when I'm particular furious. I'm pretty sure I actually saw the red laser beam shoot out from my eyes to his mirror at that moment. I will say that my nostrils were probably flaring. Also, I grew horns.
And fangs.
And claws.
He looked into his rearview mirror and we made eye contact.
Unfortunately for him, we were then stuck at that light for a few minutes. I was too furious to even blink, while he tried really, really hard to avoid me.
He decided to look everywhere but the rearview mirror, resulting in him giving a plausible imitation of a muppet with Parkinson's searching the sky for Super Grover.
Blog readers, rejoice. Every so often, something happens that reinforces my faith in kharma, my faith in justice, my faith in life itself. When it happens on the road, let's call it Road Justice.
For instance, one time Bre and I were driving on the two-lane road down to Cape Cod. On our way to Maggie's wedding, I believe. There was a huge amount of traffic, and people started driving their cars up the shoulder in order to pass everyone else. This was obviously infuriating, and so for a while Bre swung her car partially out into the shoulder to block all the would-be line-cutters. We could only handle the honks for so long before we turned completely back into the right lane and just stewed at the injustice of it all.
That is, until we turned a slight corner and saw the policeman, who was standing there handing out tickets to all those who tried to drive in the shoulder.
ROAD JUSTICE.
Another time I saw a car speeding up the highway from a far distance away, weaving in between cars and just being completely wreckless. He started tailgating me-- NOT in the left lane, I might add-- and I would have just let it go, until I glanced in my mirror and caught a glimpse of the kid.
He was young, he was making obscene gestures, and more importantly, his collars were double-popped. At that moment, Providence intervened and I glanced to my left, and An Understanding passed between me and the driver of that other car. We both slowed down. To about 25 mph. And just let that kid stew.
ROAD JUSTICE.
So this morning? Mr. Vespa-Sidler decided to try to make a right turn from the middle lane. Another car was already going straight in that lane.
They collided.
Now, don't get all upset. All vehicles were moving slowly, so nobody was hurt. But still....
ROAD JUSTICE.
This morning I was cut off by a man wearing tweed and a Lucky Strike helmet on a vespa.
 |
If any of you have a particular type of father, you know exactly the type of look I'm about to describe. I can't do it on command; it only happens when I'm particular furious. I'm pretty sure I actually saw the red laser beam shoot out from my eyes to his mirror at that moment. I will say that my nostrils were probably flaring. Also, I grew horns.
And fangs.
And claws.
 |
| I don't know where the nipple piercing came from but it's really uncomfortable. |
He looked into his rearview mirror and we made eye contact.
Unfortunately for him, we were then stuck at that light for a few minutes. I was too furious to even blink, while he tried really, really hard to avoid me.
He decided to look everywhere but the rearview mirror, resulting in him giving a plausible imitation of a muppet with Parkinson's searching the sky for Super Grover.
 |
For instance, one time Bre and I were driving on the two-lane road down to Cape Cod. On our way to Maggie's wedding, I believe. There was a huge amount of traffic, and people started driving their cars up the shoulder in order to pass everyone else. This was obviously infuriating, and so for a while Bre swung her car partially out into the shoulder to block all the would-be line-cutters. We could only handle the honks for so long before we turned completely back into the right lane and just stewed at the injustice of it all.
That is, until we turned a slight corner and saw the policeman, who was standing there handing out tickets to all those who tried to drive in the shoulder.
ROAD JUSTICE.
Another time I saw a car speeding up the highway from a far distance away, weaving in between cars and just being completely wreckless. He started tailgating me-- NOT in the left lane, I might add-- and I would have just let it go, until I glanced in my mirror and caught a glimpse of the kid.
He was young, he was making obscene gestures, and more importantly, his collars were double-popped. At that moment, Providence intervened and I glanced to my left, and An Understanding passed between me and the driver of that other car. We both slowed down. To about 25 mph. And just let that kid stew.
ROAD JUSTICE.
So this morning? Mr. Vespa-Sidler decided to try to make a right turn from the middle lane. Another car was already going straight in that lane.
They collided.
Now, don't get all upset. All vehicles were moving slowly, so nobody was hurt. But still....
ROAD JUSTICE.
Some people believe there is a separate God for children, I need to believe there is a separate hell for asshole drivers where they are punished accordingly. I need to believe this because if there isn't, I'm really close to doling out said punishments myself cough throwing acid in someone's face cough.
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