Thursday, February 28, 2008
Did I mention that there are a lot of assholes in the world? I had an encounter with one this very day.
Driving on the interstate, bumper-to-bumper traffic. Warm spring day, the sun shining, top down, music playing, I was fine. Save that I was in the right lane and need to be in the middle one. So, I waited for a gap, put my turn indicator on, looked and saw I was clear, and moved over.
Came the horn. Seems a guy in a Dodge Ram pickup wanted to move from the left lane into the center, and was unhappy that I beat him to it.
No big deal, it's rush hour, there's a lot of doh-si-doh, and you made it anyhow, so what's the problem?
Didn't like a convertible getting ahead of him, it seemed. Turns into the artery-blowing version of Marcel Marceau, goes into a pissed-off trio of gestures: First, of course, The Finger. Then, a c'mon-let's-get-it-on wave -- as if he really expected me to park my car in the middle of I-5 and walk back to discuss it with him. Then, the pointing-an-imaginary gun and shooting me. Probably I would have been more nervous at this last had he had a real gun, and the thought crossed my mind that there might be one on the seat next to Goofy back there. Never know. Which is a good reason not to give somebody The Finger. I might have had a gun on the seat next to me, mightn't I?
I wanted to laugh. I didn't offer any return hand signals, just shook my head, and that set him off again. Limited vocabulary, alas, he only had the three moves. Finger. Come hither wave. Imaginary gun.
Part of me wanted to point to the shoulder and nod: Okay, Goofy, let's go dance -- show me what what you got. But, of course, part of being an adult is realizing that chastising the world's assholes would be a job entailing much overtime for no pay, so I resisted the urge.
Sometimes being the grown-up isn't as much fun, but, hey ... somebody's got to do it.