Friday, November 19, 2010

I think someone had a case of the Mondays

The following is based on a true story. This happened a few months ago, and after it happened I made a mental note to be sure and write a post about it. And then some stuff and some other stuff got in the way of my (semi) regular posting schedule and it got pushed back into the recesses of my brain. I remembered it recently, picked it up, dusted it off (yes, my recesses are dusty) and here goes:

It was noon-ish on a weekday and I was driving to lunch. I turned into a left-turn lane at an upcoming intersection. There was a grandpa following a ways behind me who also turned into the same left turn lane. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a ridiculous, monster style truck in the far right lane. The truck was the kind that had tires so high, I could pitch a tent and set up camp underneath it. Mr. Idiot Trucker decided, a little too late, that he needed to turn left as well, and what did he do? He cut across 3 lanes of traffic and cut in front of grandpa. He came so close I could have sworn he shaved the right side of gramps's car. Meanwhile, gramps was none too happy about this so he honked his horn and gave the universal sign for "DARN YOU, YOU LITTLE HOOLIGAN WHIPPERSNAPPER." Oh, you don't know that hand sign?  It's the classic, tightly clenched fist-shake.

In that moment, gramps was my hero. I could see myself doing the same thing in his position. Or at least I would hope so. Now, I know plenty of people who would instantly raise the mightiest of fingers and wave it at the hooligan in question, but not I. I have far less of a spine. I would fear the consequences that may result from my bird-flipping, so I would definitely opt for the less offensive yet classic shake of the fist. Or I would even go Mr. Potato-Head style and put on my angry-eyes and then give the famous evil stare-down.

Back to the story, we were all 3 sitting at a red light. Me first, then the punk, then gramps. The seemingly harmless fist-shake apparently enraged the punk kid. So much so that he threw open his door, jumped out of his truck and-I FREAKING KID YOU NOT-started JUMPING ON THE HOOD OF GRAMPA'S CAR.  After 3 or 4 jumps, the light was still red and the kid got back into his truck and sped off into the distance. I was in shock and felt terrible for the old man behind me, who no doubt, was also in shock. When the light changed the man took off in the direction that the kid went. I sincerely hope he found him or at least got a license plate number. I hope the man didn't have to pay hundreds of dollars for a brand new hood. I hope justice was served. In hindsight, I feel like I probably should have done something to help, but I was honestly scared shitless for fear of what that kid might do. I really hope karma gives him a swift kick in the rear. Like perhaps...maybe...his girlfriend should dump him...on his Disneyland. Or someone should at least pee in his cheerios. Yeah, I could go for that.

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