A Letter To The Idiot Mustang Driver
Dear Mr. Mustang Driver,
Today while making my weekly commute over the hill to work via Laurel Canyon, we were stuck is some pretty lame traffic. The two lanes heading into Hollywood were both congested from the top of the hill at Mullholland down almost to the light at Fryman. If I were in a hurry, I'd be pissed, but as I have learned over the last couple of weeks since school started up again, this is the norm. It's always slow. All of us cars were stacked in line, inching forward three feet at a time, trying to gauge whether the right or the left lane would be faster to the top. Each of us alone in our cars, yet united, suffering from a irritating pain in the neck.
Maybe you didn't know that it was normal to be slow. Maybe you didn't realize that we were not going to quickly zip right up the hill. Maybe you were thinking that the traffic was more like 10pm rather than 9am when you stepped on the gas and REAR-ENDED ME! Maybe you were just too busy freaking out that you was going to be late for work at Circuit City and couldn't get your Tall Vanilla Latte before Byron, the floor manager yelled at you for "being so lazy you couldn't get your fat ass to work on time again" that you forgot to simply LOOK IN FRONT OF YOU and notice that I had NOT MOVED forward my three feet yet.
And then, even though we live in a civilized nation, maybe you didn't realize that it would have been right for you to actually apologize for hitting my car with your lame (I'm definitely compensating for something) convertable black mustang that had more than one ding on the bumper. Instead, you just simply wave your arm and look annoyed that I was actually going to acknowledge the fact that you bumped my car with yours. Maybe you just thought that by giving me an annoyed look, you wouldn't look like such an ass, who randomly hits people because you don't pay attention when you are in traffic. Maybe, by acknowledging me in such a blasé manner, I would think it was charming. That you were just giving your fellow Angeleno a "love tap" and that you were actually helping me realize that I could move forward a foot. I would realize what you were doing and mouth to you via my rearview mirror, "Oh, thank you Mr. Wonderful! I wasn't aware that I could squeeze forward a couple of inches. You have saved 5 seconds off my commute. Have a great day - I hope you get your latte! Extra foam, right?!".
Maybe not. Asshole.
Love,
Me.
Today while making my weekly commute over the hill to work via Laurel Canyon, we were stuck is some pretty lame traffic. The two lanes heading into Hollywood were both congested from the top of the hill at Mullholland down almost to the light at Fryman. If I were in a hurry, I'd be pissed, but as I have learned over the last couple of weeks since school started up again, this is the norm. It's always slow. All of us cars were stacked in line, inching forward three feet at a time, trying to gauge whether the right or the left lane would be faster to the top. Each of us alone in our cars, yet united, suffering from a irritating pain in the neck.
Maybe you didn't know that it was normal to be slow. Maybe you didn't realize that we were not going to quickly zip right up the hill. Maybe you were thinking that the traffic was more like 10pm rather than 9am when you stepped on the gas and REAR-ENDED ME! Maybe you were just too busy freaking out that you was going to be late for work at Circuit City and couldn't get your Tall Vanilla Latte before Byron, the floor manager yelled at you for "being so lazy you couldn't get your fat ass to work on time again" that you forgot to simply LOOK IN FRONT OF YOU and notice that I had NOT MOVED forward my three feet yet.
And then, even though we live in a civilized nation, maybe you didn't realize that it would have been right for you to actually apologize for hitting my car with your lame (I'm definitely compensating for something) convertable black mustang that had more than one ding on the bumper. Instead, you just simply wave your arm and look annoyed that I was actually going to acknowledge the fact that you bumped my car with yours. Maybe you just thought that by giving me an annoyed look, you wouldn't look like such an ass, who randomly hits people because you don't pay attention when you are in traffic. Maybe, by acknowledging me in such a blasé manner, I would think it was charming. That you were just giving your fellow Angeleno a "love tap" and that you were actually helping me realize that I could move forward a foot. I would realize what you were doing and mouth to you via my rearview mirror, "Oh, thank you Mr. Wonderful! I wasn't aware that I could squeeze forward a couple of inches. You have saved 5 seconds off my commute. Have a great day - I hope you get your latte! Extra foam, right?!".
Maybe not. Asshole.
Love,
Me.
Comments
What ended up happening?