Road rage!
Monday, October 24th, 2005 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoSomeone told me that I can't do anything normally. I'm beginning to beleive that's true.
Today I was driving to class from work. Now going to class from work involves about an hour's drive that should take me about 35 minutes. There is one stretch of road that's particularly bad. Even though this stretch is less than two miles long, I usually spend 15-20 minutes on it. The cars inch forward and stop. Inch forward and stop. The stoplight turns red and we all stop. It's frustrating, but I'm use to it.
Lots of cars pull into the center lane and by-pass the traffic so they can turn left. To do this they have to drive for a good 500 feet in the center lane. They aren't suppose to, but I can understand why they do it.
I'm sitting in my car waiting for the light to turn green. I'm also looking in my side mirror watching the cars pull out of line and pass drive down the center lane. Zoom! There goes a little red car. Zoom! There's a blue mini-van. As I watch a shiny, black BMW pulls out and starts down the center lane.
From the window of a car two vehicles behind me sails what looked like an empty Saltine box. It pegs the BMW's hoods, tumbles up his windshield, and bounces off the roof. My eyes must have gone huge. The BMW's momentum carries him past my car. I figure that's the end of it, weirdos on the road, and go back to waiting for the green.
Not quite.
Mr. BMW is none to pleased that something got thrown at his car. He stops, throws the car in reverse, and starts backing up in the turn lane. This guy was a walking stereotype. I'm not kidding. Imagine an arrogant banker or lawyer. Graying hair, button down shirt, suit jacket in the passenger seat, and a giant cigar clamped between his teeth. That would be this guy. And he was flying in reverse down the turn lane.
By now everyone is pretending that they are not totally engrossed in what is about to happen. "Look, my engagement ring. Isn't it shiny? I'm so totally looking at that and not craning my neck to stare in my side mirror in the hopes I'll get a better view of what's going to happen." Mr. BMW pulls beside the car that lobbed the box at him. He beeps his horn several times and starts gesturing wildly.
I can't see what was gestured back because of the car behind me. However, whatever it was it did not please Mr. BMW. He pulls out his cell phone and gestures towards it. Then he back up and starts dramatically punching numbers. It takes me about three seconds to realize that he's backed up enough to see the license plate number of the car that threw something at his. My guess is he was calling the police.
I don't want to be caught in this. Mr. BMW is yelling into his phone and every time he looks over at the car next to him, his face breaks out into a giant shit-eating grin. If the police show they are going to start asking about witnesses. Luckily the light turns green. Traffic moves. The car that Mr. BMW is calling the cops on moves.
Mr. BMW stays right beside them. That's when I hit the gas and get far, far away lest the road rage get worse.
Rest assured if I didn't have class, I would have stayed to watch so I could report to you what happened in this case of road rage.
Today I was driving to class from work. Now going to class from work involves about an hour's drive that should take me about 35 minutes. There is one stretch of road that's particularly bad. Even though this stretch is less than two miles long, I usually spend 15-20 minutes on it. The cars inch forward and stop. Inch forward and stop. The stoplight turns red and we all stop. It's frustrating, but I'm use to it.
Lots of cars pull into the center lane and by-pass the traffic so they can turn left. To do this they have to drive for a good 500 feet in the center lane. They aren't suppose to, but I can understand why they do it.
I'm sitting in my car waiting for the light to turn green. I'm also looking in my side mirror watching the cars pull out of line and pass drive down the center lane. Zoom! There goes a little red car. Zoom! There's a blue mini-van. As I watch a shiny, black BMW pulls out and starts down the center lane.
From the window of a car two vehicles behind me sails what looked like an empty Saltine box. It pegs the BMW's hoods, tumbles up his windshield, and bounces off the roof. My eyes must have gone huge. The BMW's momentum carries him past my car. I figure that's the end of it, weirdos on the road, and go back to waiting for the green.
Not quite.
Mr. BMW is none to pleased that something got thrown at his car. He stops, throws the car in reverse, and starts backing up in the turn lane. This guy was a walking stereotype. I'm not kidding. Imagine an arrogant banker or lawyer. Graying hair, button down shirt, suit jacket in the passenger seat, and a giant cigar clamped between his teeth. That would be this guy. And he was flying in reverse down the turn lane.
By now everyone is pretending that they are not totally engrossed in what is about to happen. "Look, my engagement ring. Isn't it shiny? I'm so totally looking at that and not craning my neck to stare in my side mirror in the hopes I'll get a better view of what's going to happen." Mr. BMW pulls beside the car that lobbed the box at him. He beeps his horn several times and starts gesturing wildly.
I can't see what was gestured back because of the car behind me. However, whatever it was it did not please Mr. BMW. He pulls out his cell phone and gestures towards it. Then he back up and starts dramatically punching numbers. It takes me about three seconds to realize that he's backed up enough to see the license plate number of the car that threw something at his. My guess is he was calling the police.
I don't want to be caught in this. Mr. BMW is yelling into his phone and every time he looks over at the car next to him, his face breaks out into a giant shit-eating grin. If the police show they are going to start asking about witnesses. Luckily the light turns green. Traffic moves. The car that Mr. BMW is calling the cops on moves.
Mr. BMW stays right beside them. That's when I hit the gas and get far, far away lest the road rage get worse.
Rest assured if I didn't have class, I would have stayed to watch so I could report to you what happened in this case of road rage.
