Morning Irritants

Driving in to work yesterday I was puzzled to see a young woman, with her back to me, walking down the middle of the one lane road I was on, talking on her cell phone, with her back to me.  I slowed quickly to match her speed as I attempted to demonstrate courteous patience in waiting for her to move to one side of the road or other.  Didn’t happen.  I was within 10 feet of her, so there was no way she couldn’t hear the engine on my 1994 Honda.  

Despite this outrageous display of foolhardy arrogance, I couldn’t bring myself to honk.  Maybe it was from the years I spent on Guam, where sounding your horn at another person was essentially soliciting a fight to the death with whatever blunt objects you had rattling around under the driver’s seat.

This went on for maybe 200 yards, with me driving to match her leisurely walking speed.  Eventually she casually glanced over her shoulder and gradually migrated over to the side of the road, the cell phone still glued to her ear.  I was planning on delivering my best scathing glare, but my attention was diverted by my next adventure shaping up just ahead.

What caught my attention initially was flashing railroad crossing lights.  I wasn’t terribly keen on yet another delay, but when the lights are flashing, what can you do?  There wasn’t a train anywhere in sight, but that was pretty much par for the course.  As I came to a stop, traffic started to accumulate behind me.  Then, I noticed there was a guy working on the crossing light.  It had already been almost a minute, so I figured if the lights were the result of whatever this guy was doing as opposed to a real train, he would have waived me on by now.  Two minutes: no train, no hint of acknowledgement from the light technician.

Heads began to bob and hands gesticulate behind me.  My sense was that they were growing weary of my failure to perceive the obvious.  Although it was beginning to dawn on me that the light technician was a moron of the first order, the principled rage in me insisted on waiting until he acknowledged the presence of my waiting car, barely 15 feet from his screwdriver.

Exhibiting was must have been a calculated, cultivated air of indifference, he eventually waved me on.  I glanced furtively in my rear view mirror as I proceeded, checking for evidence that perhaps cell phone girl was somehow conspiring with moron light guy.  I saw no such indication, but did take note of my own gruesome grimace – a veritable death’s mask.

Okay, so I got a little wound up.  The rest of the day was uneventful.

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3 Comments

  1. found your blog randomly looking through wordpress. i got a nice chuckle out of your morning woes. I guess i’m writing to tell you that i laughed out of your misfortune? hmmm, now it seems rude.

    anyway, drop by if you want, i will probably return to your blog from time to time.

    Cheers!

  2. Thanks bmccoy, I’ll try to track down your blog and check it out. How’s it feel to be my 3rd reader? :–)

    Thanks again!

  3. well it feels sort of like getting 3rd place in “curling” in the winter olympics. its like, “well, i got a medal, but for curling…”
    cheers!!

    B

    http://bmccoy.wordpress.com


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