Since my new job is a mile from home, I took it upon myself to walk to work whenever the elements allowed. Now in its third week, I think I have seen enough to write a book. I take different routes. Some take me through the office park. Others will take me down my street to the main road. Yet others take me through parking lots.
This morning, I was walking down my street which also includes several strip malls. As I am walking through the entrance of the parking lot of one of these malls, some woman in an SUV was signaling to make a right turn. I kept walking after all, pedestrians have the right of way, right?
Unknown to this woman, I was able to read her lips (yes Tina…I used to be a professional lip reader!). She said, “Move, you bleeping bleep!” I am like…..helllllllllooooooooo, lady cool your britches. I have the right of way! Thank you for having the courtesy of not running me over.
This is not the first time I have encountered crazy drivers. Last summer, Steph and I were jogging down Main St when yet another woman in an yet another SUV decided it was okto stop on the cross-walk and impedeour progress. I gestured towards her like “what are you doing?” She gave me the grossest look with the worse potty mouth I ever encountered from a woman. I was almost inclined to ask her if she was a truck driver or something.
Finally, Steph and I had to detour behind her and I decided to give her a piece of my mind. I slapped the back of her vehicle. OH VAYYYYY! She made the turn, rolled down the window and screamed at the top of her lungs more curse words than I have heard in the entire day! “You bleeping bleep go bleep yourself you bleeping bleeper bleep! Bleeper! Bleeping bleeper!” My response? “No thanks!”
And then there was this fat chick driving a rusted out Pontiac. I was driving down Main St. when the driver in front of me decided to make a quick right turn into Wendys. I had to stop as that driver decided to let a dear old lady cross. In situations like that, I always look in my rear view mirror to make sure I am not going to get rear ended.
The fat chick in the rusted out Pontiac had to stop abruptly and proceeded to express her displeasure by blasting the horn. I gestured like, “Why are you blasting the thing at me??” Her response…the sign language expression for loser along with the bird.
She made a turn into the next parking lot. As luck would have it, I decided to do the same thing and pulled up next to her. And whipped out my trusted Droid to take a picture. “Smilllleeeeeee…..you’ll gonna be on Facebook!” For the life of me, considering what she was driving and how she looked, I truly believed her vocabulary consisted of nothing but 4 letter words. Sadly, I shoke my head and drove away
And there have been quite a few others. Maybe I should start up a new blog called Crazy Drivers…