Oh, how I look forward to Epic Fail Friday when I’ve had a week chock full of stupid bad behavior to share with you!
Yesterday was, apparently, International Drive Like a Loon Day (DLALD). Oh, you didn’t get the memo? Me either. I would have joined the throngs of idiots and showcased my worst driving skills had I known. On the way home from work, in a span of ten short minutes, I encountered more roadway stupidity than I have witnessed since we moved to Ohio over eight months ago. The Stupid Bad Drivers Anonymous Association (SBDAA) would be thrilled to know how dedicated to the DLALD cause people were. Here’s a quick sketch of my trip home:
5:33 p.m. – Disgusting gentleman in front of me hacks a huge spray of nasty spit out his window. It splashes everywhere and glistens in the sunlight.
5:34 p.m. – Stop at a green light because traffic is backed up and advancing any further would land me squarely in the middle of an intersection when the light turns red, immediately making me one of those morons everyone loves to hate.
5:35 p.m. – Taxi cab pulls up behind me, sees me stopped at the green light to avoid blocking the intersection until the traffic clears, then decides to go around me hereby cutting in line and blocking the intersection. I am dumbfounded and infuriated so I honk. This is a bold statement for me.
(Dear Fool: I wasn’t stopped at a green light for my own pleasure.)
5:36 p.m. – Spitting viper is at it again.
5:38 p.m. – I stop at a red light and glace over at the car next to me. The chick driving proceeds to roll down her window and toss three pieces of garbage out onto the streets. I eye the litter on the ground and then glance up at her, making my disgust clear. I hope she felt bad.
5:38 p.m. – More spit.
5:41 p.m. – While driving down a particularly steep and curvy road I look to my left. What do I see but an exemplary citizen simultaneously driving and devouring the messiest burrito ever on a grease-soaked paper plate with one hand in between puffs of his cigarette, which is in his other hand. If you’re anything like me, you’re impressed with his mad multi-tasking skills and also a little curious as to which hand he’s using to, you know, steer his vehicle down the steep and winding road since his left hand is occupied by a cigarette held tightly to his lips and his right hand and leg are occupied by a oozing burrito.
5:42 p.m. – The tailgater makes his debut leaving approximately six inches between his car and mine on said steep and winding road.
5:43 p.m. – I become angry because not only are my chances of making it home unharmed diminishing with every passing vehicle but I cannot even tap on my breaks to passive-aggressively showcase my annoyance at his tailgating and warn him to back the hell off my handsome Buick because there is no room for him to stop should I have decided to tap my breaks in warning. I settle for shooting him my most seething glare when he finally squeezes past me. Do I taste fail sauce? I do.
6:01 p.m. – I scramble in the door and collapse in my husbands arms, relieved to be alive.
6:03 p.m. – I check online and discover it is DLALD sponsored by SBDAA.
And it all makes sense.
Welcome to my Epic Fail Friday, Cincinnati Drivers! I only wish I’d snapped pictures of your license plates to post on this blog so everyone knows just who you are. Ironically, snapping photos while driving would have landed me in with the DLALD crowd and then I’d have had to write about my own foolish antics for Epic Fail Friday, which I try to limit to doing only once every six months and I’ve already met that quota with my blackberry thyme margarita disaster of 2011.
P.S. I think Epic Fail Friday would an excellent time to discuss what the hell old ladies wear to smell so strongly of…well, old lady. You know that scent so potently overwhelming that you can’t help but cough clouds of powder out of your lungs when a gaggle of the Dove Club tootles by? Is that just naturally the way you smell when you get older or is it a cocktail of baby powder and aging perfume left over from 1948? Whatever it is, please don’t allow me to smell like that in 50 years. Friends don’t let friends wreak.
