Dear Journal,
I almost leaned on the horn today, and you know how rare that is for me, but this guy in front of me was going 30 mph in a 45 zone. Seriously. I would have gone around him but inexplicably there were these double yellow parallel lines that went on what seemed like forever. Then he began going even slower. Argh. I had places to go and things to do. I did not have time for a lazy Sunday driver traveling down a relatively busy road on a Thursday afternoon.
When he finally turned (and pretty slowly, too) I put the pedal to the medal, happy to finally have my freedom back. It made me think, though, was I always like this? Did it take something relatively small like that to get me angry? Was it just because I was running behind schedule or is that just my m.o. now? I was saying choice things under my breath the entire time we were creeping along at a glacial pace, and I felt embarrassed for them after they were out, but that doesn’t excuse them slipping out in the first place.
That’s happened more lately for whatever reason. Perhaps it’s all the construction EVERYWHERE this time of year, but it honestly seems like everyone is conspiring against me on the roads. Even the traffic lights are in on it. I was on my way somewhere really important (a different place), and I was running behind schedule (yes, again) when I got stuck at a light that was solid yellow. It wasn’t changing at all, and people were stopped on all four blocks leading to the intersection, so it must have been stuck on yellow for everyone. I mean, really?
Maybe I’m just getting old and crochety. At least that’s what my brain tells me after the fact. But I did restrain myself enough in each instance not to get so frustrated that I laid on the horn, or passed the slowpokes when that imposing double yellow line was present. Even when I’ve been behind farm equipment I try to breathe in and out deeply to get out all the pissed off feelings. After all, it’s not like they’re doing it on purpose to drive me insane. They’re not, right?
So hopefully my mutterings don’t turn into real road rage. I always think about those guys who get so fired up over what happens on the road that they flip each other off, or pull off the side of the road to get physical about it, and I know I could never be one of them. I can’t even be a George Costanza and follow a guy who I feel has flipped me off. I like to think I’m more civilized than that, but maybe I should get rid of the mutterings anyway. They’re not going to get me anywhere any faster than keeping my mouth shut so what’s the point anyway?
Oh, and my horn. I think I’ll save that for when the Ford Fusion in front of me decides not to go once the light has turned green because the lady in the driver’s seat is fiddling with her phone. Grrrr.
Sam
Sam's Online Journal 