Road Indignation

I did something today that I haven't done in probably twenty years. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I did it. Maybe, just possibly, I have never done it before. As a matter of fact, now that I really think about it, I can't recall a single instance in my entire life that I have done this particular thing. I admit that I am a little ashamed. I lost control of myself. I allowed someone to get the better of me. And to make matters worse, my kids were with me. I did it in front of my kids. So what did I do? I flipped someone off today.

That's right. I flipped someone off. I gave them the finger. The bird. The one finger salute. I am not proud of myself. However, in my defense, the guy deserved it. It will come as no surprise to Ruanita (or anyone who knows me) that it happened in my car. I tend to think that Minnesotans in general, and residents of Minneapolis in particular, completely lack all basic knowledge of how to drive a car. They really drive me quite mad. I wouldn't say that I have road rage, but I definitely have road agitation. Road indignation. And I was feeling particularly indignant today. The guy I flipped off had it coming. He was an offender of the word kind. A cocky, I-own-this-road sort of fellow.

I was on my way to pick Lucas up from school and I had Sophie and Nicholas in the car with me. I turned the corner off my street and there was a large truck parked in the middle of the street working on the power lines. I sat there for a few minutes until I eventually realized that there was no getting around them. The truck had the entire road blocked. Since the guys were busy doing their jobs, I figured I would just turn and drive down the alley instead. I turned into the alley and drove the entire length of the block. As I neared the end of the alley, there was a guy sitting there in a huge gas-guzzling pick-up truck. He was sitting in the middle of the alley, leaving no room to pass him. His engine was idling and he was talking on his cell phone. As I approached him, I stopped and waited patiently for him to to move out of the way. He looked at me, but didn't move. He continued to talk on the phone. I think I cursed at him. More than once. But my windows were rolled up, so it was all good. He still did not move. He was sitting behind the last house on the block. He only needed to back a few feet out of the alley onto the street to let me pass. Or even simply pull into someone's parking space. But did he move? No. Not an inch. Eventually, he waved his arms out of his window as if to say, "I'm not moving." Had I not had my children with me, I am afraid I may have come unglued on his cocky hide. I was feeling rather on edge after a super busy day at work. I could have fairly easily, and without any remorse whatsoever, scratched his eyes out. But I did have my children with me. Alas, I was forced to stifle my violent inclinations. So I pulled into someone's back parking spot and turned my van around. As I drove away, I stuck my hand out the window and flipped the guy off. He deserved much worse.

And the kids couldn't see my hand anyway.