It's just this little chromium switch, here... (derspatchel) wrote,
It's just this little chromium switch, here...

Jackass in a Camry (I know, it's serious)

A few days back someone on one of my Internet E-Friend Thingos gave the following, now paraphrased, rule which every driver should heed, but not enough do:
The car in front of you has stopped for a reason.
The reason itself doesn't matter. The car has stopped.
And if you don't know the reason then you have absolutely no right to nudge 'em forward or speed around them.
I say this because about 15 minutes ago I nearly got creamed on College Ave trying to cross on the crosswalk by the old folks' home. The lane of traffic on my side was already stopped and the light was still red. The car in front of me had thoughtfully stopped before the crosswalk and let me cross.

There was some oncoming traffic in the other lane, so I stood in the middle of the crosswalk and waited for someone to stop. The first car did stop, and the guy did the little "go 'head, go 'head" motion for me. So I went 'head, and that's when I met the guy in the Camry who was behind the first car and who had decided that a fellow driver stopping at a crosswalk was completely unacceptable. This fellow leaned on the horn, passed the first car on the right and sped through the crosswalk, coming within a few inches of certain body parts that I'd like to keep intact (toes, feet, legs, torso, head, tingly bits, all those things.) I only slowed down because I heard the horn. If I'd been keeping the pace I'd started, I'm reasonably sure things would have been much, much uglier.

So one point for the courtesy of blaring a horn, an award not usually given, but negative eighty million points for everything else.

I don't give two wet farts if the Camry didn't see me in the crosswalk. What matters is that the first car did, and it stopped, and cars stop for a goddamned reason. Speeding around a stopped car is going to invite trouble, possibly in the form of death or dismemberment. In this case however it resulted in a very angry man advising the Jackass in a Camry that the Jackass' birth was wholly illegitimate and, furthermore, he probably enjoys carnal relations with the woman who gave said illegitimate birth to him.

I'd have gotten his license and called the police officer's station, only my extended middle finger was obscuring the plate as he sped off. Hopefully he decided to accept my invitation to dine upon human waste, and was off to find a good source.

I haven't had to flip the bird at anyone (and mean it) for a very very long time, and I am disappointed that my streak has come to an end. I am most disappointed that the fellow really needed the Double Deuce, only one hand was holding a bag full of groceries and was thus unprepared to be as expressive as necessary.

It really hasn't been a good day all around, and this just compounded things right to the point of Getting Really Angry. Fortunately this time around I was able to instill in myself a heaping dose of Righteous Indignation and, most importantly, I was able to aim that Indignation directly at the sonofabitch who deserved it. No projection or transference today! Whoopee!

I am also still quite cranky that I didn't find anybody to go see The Slutcracker with. It's really not one of those things I'd go see alone. Thankfully I saw it last year so I know the story.
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