Friday, November 23, 2012

Mind your own business. Oh, and Happy Holidays, f***er.

Today, after a long, lazy lunch with a friend, I walked to the grocery store.

On my way, at each corner, I stopped, looked both ways, stepped into the parking lane, and then waited for either the traffic to clear or the signal to change so I could cross.  I do this a lot, if it isn't a corner where a pedestrian might get picked off.  Because I'm a jay-walker.  Always have been, and always will be.  I don't think I could stop, not even if I tried.

Anyway, while standing in the parking lane at one particular intersection, I saw that the car about to enter the intersection had nearly stopped, and so I checked the light to see if it had changed, but it hadn't.  Then I realized that the driver might have thought I was going to continue walking.  Even though I was looking at the car and not really moving very fast.  I figured that since it was Black Friday, that the driver was someone that doesn't get downtown much, someone being extra cautious of foot traffic.

Then, after a few more cars passed, a truck slowed down as it passed me and the driver rolled down his window to say, "Maybe you shouldn't try crossing against the light."

I looked him in the eye and said, "Maybe you should mind your own business." And then I gave him the finger.  And then, as he slipped out of earshot, I underlined the hand gesture with something like, "Happy Holidays, F***er."

Apparently crows-feet and laugh lines can erase the petulant teenager from my face, but nothing will remove her from my mouth.

I seriously don't know where the that came from.  I do know that this is the kind of thing that leads me to sequester myself from people as much as possible.  I do stuff like that.  I like to think everyone does.  But somehow I can forgive the humanity of everyone else much more easily than I can my own.

The poor guy said what he said with gentle concern, and he seemed like he was trying to be helpful.  For all I know, they guy could have been an angel, sent down to give me a little nudge so that I'll be a bit more vigilant and avoid a fatal accident in the next 48 hours.  And what do I do?  I flip him off.

The hand of God could have been reaching out to me, and I spit in his palm.

And that's my only consolation in this whole thing.  The guy in the truck wasn't an angel.  Even if they exist (they don't), there'd be no reason to send someone down to keep me safe.  I'm not that significant.  That's not poor self-esteem, it's just a fact.  I mean, I'm pretty sure I won't be on my way to kill Hitler on Sunday.

Regardless, I want to say:  Happy Holidays, Truck Guy, wherever you are.  I mean it this time.