I wish I had Bill Engvall’s ability to laugh at stupidity. Or Ghandi’s ability to stop in a less-than-wonderful moment and offer nothing but love and acceptance to an adversary (or in this case, an idiot). However, I don’t. There are days–like today–I quite aptly channel Clint Eastwood. Go ahead, make my day.
Of course, by the end of the day–or even by the end of this post–I will look at the situation that has me bent out of shape and will run the gamut from Clint to Ghandi to Bill. I just need a moment to vent first!
I drive a well-broken-in Volvo. It’s a tank. It has 303,386 miles on it. Just recently it (she) has decided she wants premium gas and at least half a tank full at all times. God help me when I don’t meet her demands. She protests. And she protests at the most inopportune times, like today as I turned left at a very busy main intersection. With six lanes of stopped traffic, two lanes of oncoming traffic, and a line of cars waiting behind us, she stopped. Yep, right there in the middle of our turn. No go no more.
I didn’t panic, but let momentum take us as far through the intersection and as far out of the way as possible. This allowed those behind me two open lanes to pass; those coming toward me could simply move over to the left lane. I was holding my breath as the intersection cleared. I made it! Then one lone car appeared. Coming straight at me, the lane next to her was wide open so she could move over. Instead, what does she do? She keeps driving at me, honking and yelling, like I’ve just randomly decided to stop right where I am. Seriously. Did she ask herself, “I wonder why that woman has parked there?” or did it dawn on her for one split second that I might have broken down? I did not CHOOSE to stop there and put my life in danger. Besides being in a precarious position, it’s embarrassing, and this woman decides to add insult to injury by HONKING and YELLING at me? Some people.
I managed to endure another turn of the light before a good Samaritan offered to push me out of the way. Lo and behold, the Volvo decides NOW we will go. I thanked Mr. Good Samaritan and gunned it out of dodge! An acquaintance of mine also stopped to check on me. Many thanks to goodhearted people because they offer proof not everyone is a jerk like The Honker.
Besides just rattling on about an old car, what is it I want to say today? I want to say this:
BRING NICE BACK!!!!
You don’t have to stop and help everyone you see, but don’t be a jerk. Have a little tolerance, empathy, or at least decorum to act like a reasonable adult. You don’t know what another person is going through so would it really hurt you to take the high road and give someone the benefit of the doubt? I think it would do us all a little good.
While I’ve not let it go to the point of channeling Ghandi or laughing it off with a “here’s your sign” joke yet, I know Clint would say, “You made my day…Karma knows where you live lady.” That’s all I can manage for now!
Perhaps a little Ghandi is slipping through, too: The Honker did make me aware that I should entertain the idea of retiring the old hooptie before she gets me killed! So, thanks annoyed Honker.
Have a great day my friend!
P.S. I just changed clothes and realized the humor in this morning's events! While at the gas station, the cashier and I engaged in the requisite dialogue. However, he then (perhaps trying to cheer me up) says, "You match very well. Your gray top and your gray and white top, very nice. Good job matching!" I shrugged, thanked him and left. Now it is dawning on me. He was complementing me on doing what the average four-year old can do...match their Garanimals! Obviously, I'm well beyond four; have I reached the age that it is surprising I have appropriately matched clothing, or that I've avoided wearing socks with my sandals? Well, at least it's taken my mind of the Honker!
The Yellow Kite