Thursday, November 18, 2004

An Open Letter to the Blonde in the White Van

Why so full of anger? Why gesture wildly at my car? I didn't hit anybody. It wasn't life and death. I just didn't get out of your way fast enough. Yes, the tail end of my car was partially blocking the "Do Not Block" intersection, but that's what happens when there's traffic. Sometimes you let six cars turn in front of you (because hey, you're a sucker) and then everybody else takes advantage so you go anyway because you know it's now or never -- even though you're mellow you probably oughta get to work eventually -- and the guy behind sticks close though he knows he shouldn't but he's impatient too, so yes, for 15 seconds the intersection is blocked... But? Why scream obscenities and shake your fist at me? What's that gonna do? Remember how I looked at you and smiled? And it made you even madder? That was funny. We were in the same traffic jam. We were both without coffee. We both waited fifteen minutes to go 150 feet down the same street. So why? Why give yourself a coronary? It's just traffic.

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The Brunette in the Blue Car

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