Road Rage

Me wrote a very funny post about road rage recently, inspiring me to tell mine.

But warning, it paints me in a very unflattering light.

I have the most awful road rage. I spend at least 3 hours a day driving in one of the worst cities in the country known for traffic. Anything will wear on you after this much time in the car. It's probably best that no one commutes with me because I'll open my mouth and spew the most offensive colorful language that makes sailors get out of their cars and flee on foot down the highway. It's really become quite an art for me.

If you've ever spoken to me on the phone while I'm driving, you can verify this. Conversations get interrupted by a loud string of swears. It's pretty ugly, but the thing is, all the rage is contained in the interior of my truck. I never take it out on others.

Until last week.

I'm on the highway and I'm about to get off my exit. There is one lane on my right, dedicated for my off-ramp. I put my blinker on as I always do and I begin pulling in the lane. This POS white Thunderbird, missing a headlight with it's hood held to the car by duct tape, sees my blinker on and decides to punch the gas and not let me in the lane. I hate this -- I think it is so rude. I'm halfway in my exit lane, but I chicken out and duck back in my lane. As the car passes, I give a short honk.

When I honk, she gives me the bird, arm fully extended towards me.

I think it's important for me to specify what I was thinking about right before this all happened. I was in an introspective coma, thinking about how easily I get screwed over in life. Traffic is one big metaphor for me. I'm always in the wrong lane, people are always cutting me off which pushes me farther back from my destination.

So she pushes me out of my lane and gives me the bird. Something just snapped in me and I realized I had to fight. Fight! This was no longer a battle for the off-ramp, this was a battle for me to take control over the way people treat me. It's time to go to the mattresses!

I get behind her and I just lay on the horn like a big asshole. She slams on her breaks, which causes me to ride her bumper, a skill I'm very adept at after living in Athens for 6 years. That's just how you drive there: on somebody else's ass. This pisses her off even more which I find great delight in.

By this time we are on the off-ramp, stopped in traffic. She's in front of me and I'm on her bumper for the only reason that it angers her. The passenger in her crappy jalopy is a man in a wifebeater and a NASCAR hat. He rolls down the window and sticks his head out at me and shouts something, although I can't hear it over my music. If my lip reading is correct, he said "Purple tigress." I just smiled and showed him he's number one. He then showed me I'm number one.

Traffic moves forward a few feet and I'm careful to maintain the exact distance between us. She's getting really mad and I can't stop laughing. She then rolls down her window and sticks her head out to shout the same thing at me, "Purple tigress!" I am just laughing like the evil Gargamel. I can't stop. We aren't moving and I'm just sitting behind her and she is so mad at me.

My laughing must have pushed her over the edge because she actually gets out of her car and comes at me. She's no better than the man with her mullet and snaggle teeth. I totally lose my game face and I scramble inside my truck to make sure my doors were locked. As soon as she saw me lock the doors, she returns to her car.

I've never been charged in traffic before. But I'll bet she'll think twice before cutting someone off again. And for the record, I do feel bad about it. A little. But not too much.