My Road Rage

I have road rage. I’m talking fly-off-the-handle, from zero to one million, steam coming out of my ears, hardcore road rage. And it happens in the blink of an eye. My husband and I can be having a very pleasant conversation about cats (that’s right) and someone gets on my tail….or cuts me off….and I lose my fucking mind. God forbid someone gets on my tail and FLASHES THEIR LIGHTS AT ME. Are you kidding me? Do you see that THERE IS SOMEONE IN FRONT OF ME TOO?! WHERE ARE YOU PLANNING ON GOING!!!!?????? I’m getting a little heated just thinking about this fictional situation. Here are some non-fiction examples:

Last weekend I turned around in the driver’s seat and flipped off an old lady who was laying on her horn (and had been for 20 minutes in dead stop traffic.) We were at a red light in the right turn only lane. There was a sign that said No Turn on Red. But that sign didn’t matter because there were also throngs of pedestrians in front of us I would have had to run over had I abided by her wish for me to get the fuck out of her way. Shall I run over the people? Maybe I should ram my car into these barriers so you’ll have room to pass? OR MAYBE I should turn around in my seat and yell obscenities at you and flip you off. Because the first two options of murder and death don’t appeal to me. Let me just add that my husband had yelled at her first and I said let’s not yell, it’s not that big of a deal! And then I saw her yell back at him and that was that.

A couple summers ago I was on my way to a friend’s house and I was making a left at a green light. I didn’t have the arrow so I was just waiting for a break in traffic. One came and I went. Well…I sort of cut off a motorcycle. I know. You have to be extra careful for the motorcyclists. I KNOW. And I really am. I’m a good driver and things like that don’t happen to me. It wasn’t serious, though, and everything was fine, but of course I felt horrible about it. Until he passed me on a double yellow line and screamed at me through my window that I was a bitch. Well shit. Without thinking I took both hands off the wheel and flipped him the double bird. I yelled out my window that he should go eff himself (oh I used the real word, don’t you worry). Did I mention he was with a pack of other motorcyclists on Harley Davidson-like bikes. I yell at men in biker gangs.

A couple of weeks ago I was leaving a gas station and almost put my car into park and got out to pick a fight with a cab driver. We were both turning right. However, there is a light directly to the right of the exit, so if you turn out into the right lane, you then get stuck in the right turn only lane, and then you’re fucked into turning right. So although there was nobody in that lane, I needed to wait for a gap in the second lane that went straight through the light. Well, Cabby McAsshole didn’t give a FUCK where I needed to go. He started laying on his horn pretty much immediately after I stopped at the exit. It was as if he expected me to just shoot out into traffic without even stopping. I did not do that so he kept ooooon that horn. Much like the lady in Philly. I lost my shit a lot earlier in this situation, though. You drive for a goddamn living. You can’t figure out why I’m stopped here? He started gesturing and yelling, I could hear him over my music (and I listen to dance pop music really loudly in my car, otherwise I can hear the strange noises my car makes and it’s stressful). I was THIS CLOSE to putting my car in park and getting out and asking him WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!?!? But he decided he’d had enough of me and zoomed around me and into the right turn only lane. Where HE needed to go. Fuck everyone else and where they needed to go.

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