Wednesday, March 17, 2010
So I'm taking Mummy to the library and on Church Avenue there is a woman waiting to cross in the crosswalk so I stop, like you are supposed to, and the guy in the car behind me starts swearing at me. I can see him in the mirror and he is calling me a fucking asshole, his lips mouthing the words as he flips me off. The woman walks across the street, I wait for her to go all the way across, like you are supposed to, and then I go forward, casually raising my hand in the air and giving him the middle finger.
"Oh, Mr. Burton used to do that and one time some guy drove him off the road and was going to beat him up but when he saw how frail he was, he drove away." Mummy doesn't really approve of flipping people off. Meanwhile, the guy, who is driving a car with Virginia license plates, is following me and still cursing and flipping me off. I respond by raising my hand and saluting him again with my middle finger. This makes Mr. Virginia Short Temper 2010 even angrier, and he really starts following me. Eventually he pulls up beside me with his window down and starts cursing at me. He stops when my mother looks at him and he is startled and drives away. I guess mothers have a magical power.
"Why are people in such a hurry?" she asks. I wonder that myself. Maybe I shouldn't have responded to that rectal opening's gestures and coarse phrases, but really, all that ranting and gesturing because I stopped at a crosswalk, which you are supposed to do?
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"Oh, Mr. Burton used to do that and one time some guy drove him off the road and was going to beat him up but when he saw how frail he was, he drove away." Mummy doesn't really approve of flipping people off. Meanwhile, the guy, who is driving a car with Virginia license plates, is following me and still cursing and flipping me off. I respond by raising my hand and saluting him again with my middle finger. This makes Mr. Virginia Short Temper 2010 even angrier, and he really starts following me. Eventually he pulls up beside me with his window down and starts cursing at me. He stops when my mother looks at him and he is startled and drives away. I guess mothers have a magical power.
"Why are people in such a hurry?" she asks. I wonder that myself. Maybe I shouldn't have responded to that rectal opening's gestures and coarse phrases, but really, all that ranting and gesturing because I stopped at a crosswalk, which you are supposed to do?
