It was one of those afternoons.
The end of the day is one of those wierd times where everyone has their own agenda.
Some people dash around frantically, some really showing their ass, in the desperate attempt to get too much done.
And then theres me. There are times that I hit this kind of slow-moving sloth-like obnoxious zone, that basically makes me useless for anything other than making myself laugh.
I was going to a semi high school reunion happy hour “Hey lets just drink” at a local place.
And then I saw him.
A truck pulled up next to me. The driver was pounding on his steering wheel and cursing loudly.
There was no one else in the car.
There was no one in front of him.
He was angry all alone.
I was kind of amazed and just staring when he looked over and saw me watching him.
I kind of smiled, suddenly embarrassed, using the accepted traffic etiquette of the weak smile and the half shrug.
He flips me off, then jackrabbits off the start as the light turns green.
This is getting good.
I began fallowing him. Not close enough that he would notice and think I am after him. I am quite sure this guy would be delighted to get in a fist fight at the next stop light. Probably not his first.
We were in the drive up lane to In N’ Out burger, (I needed a bite to eat anyway.), when I started doing the same thing. Half laughing, I began cursing at people and things for no reason. Beating on the steering wheel, you name it. It was almost like a seated aerobics work out.
I was having a great time.
I paid and got my food.
Mr. Anger was nowhere to be found.
I began to drive thru the parking lot on my way to the street when an old woman with blue hair in an old blue car almost ran into me. We didn’t hit, our front ends were a good five feet apart.
As I had been doing for the last ten minutes, I began pounding on the steering wheels and screeching for her to get out of the “GODDAM CAR” or something like that.
It was only when she laid rubber and shot down the lane that I realized that I had rolled down my window to order food.
Now I feel like a dick.
I try not to scare the elderly whenever possible. Trying to catch up to her is out of the question, she’ll think I was after her.
Lets hope karma is taking the night easy, because I have a butt load of bad coming my way.
On to the happy hour.
These things are always a mixed bag of close friends, distant friends, and people I managed not to kill years ago, so we must be friends. There are also a lot of people who seem to know me real well and I have no clue if I even went to school with them.
As I walked into the room, I felt myself relax and almost feel euphoric. When an entire table of people light up as you enter the room and shout your name, its kind of like that show, Cheers.
Where everyone knows your name.
I think I am done yelling about people in traffic, even as a joke.