Anyone who knows me, knows I’m not exactly the most patient person in the world. In my younger days I was pulled over on a regular basis due to speeding, following too closely, etc., but have since learned not to tail gate or speed. Not so much out of the desire not to do so, but more to the fact that I can’t afford a ticket nor to have my insurance go through the roof for rear ending the idiot in front of me.
However, I will say that the population in Phoenix have given new meaning to the word aggravation in regards to their driving skills.
I leave for work each weekday at the butt crack of dawn; coffee in hand and trying to recall if I remembered to toss my lunch into my bag before I left the house after decorating it with glow in the dark garden pebbles or if I left my charger on my desk or whatever. But never on the road until I reach that first light and have to merge with the thousands of other commuters.
Then the fun begins ….
It takes three lights to get the opportunity to make that left hand turn. I crank up the radio, sip my coffee, and sing. Yes, I am one of those you will see singing at their top of their lungs in the morning in a vague attempt to wake my butt up before I reach the office. Anyway, it helps.
I finally hit main street and navigate three lanes of traffic. First, a jerk from the center lane (as I always stay in the third lane) decides the idiot in front of him isn’t going fast enough so he cuts into my lane without signaling, narrowly missing my front bumper. I slam on my breaks so as not to hit him in the ass and fill my car with a barrage of profanity that would make a sailor blush.
After the second light, there’s a slight ‘dip’ in the road that if you hit it at the right speed, you’ll dent the front bumper of your car…and of course I always hit it ‘right’ and manage to spill my coffee either on my clothes or my seat depending on the level of impact.
That brings about the second round of profanity. You’d think by now I’d learn to check my breaks before I hit that section of the road, but no; because that would make sense.
A couple more lights, a few more near misses with morons who haven’t figured out yet what that stick is on the side of the steering wheel, more profanity and then we merge. Now it would occur to most that doing this commute five days a week for a countless amount of time people would know that all three lanes merge for a mile and a half stretch into one lane…but NO…because that would take away the challenge of trying to get one more car length ahead of all the other commuters.
Now me, being the sweet person that I am, will 9 times out of 10, NOT let you merge in. Simply because if you’re that asshole that races up the side lane that’s ending while the rest of us have been sitting impatiently, just because you think you’re too special to use common sense, you will be the last person I let in.
One roundabout, three stop signs placed inconveniently close together, followed shortly by the world’s longest light at one of the busiest intersections in Phoenix where I sit and check my watch a minimum of three times waiting and hoping that I’ll make it through on the next green, I’m finally on my way.
Surely enough, I pull into the office shortly before 7am, scramble to gather up my things, dig out my key card and rush in to beat the time clock.
And so begins my day … welcome to my crazy world. Let the games begin!