Remember the term 'Sunday Driver'? You know, the guy going 10 miles an hour so he can take in the sights, I guess?
Well, ever since Sunday shopping came around, you can forget that shit! I learned that lesson as I was trying desperately to get myself a coffee today.
Gone are the leisurely drives on a Sunday afternoon. If you really need a cafine fix, you are taking your life in your hands. Mix the elderly sunday driver with the manic shopper and you have a recipe for disaster. Half going 10 miles an hour and the other half weaving in and out of them.
"Blinkers? We don't need no stinkin' blinkers!"
Add to that, the idiot (man) who thinks he needs to be traffic cop for everyone else. You know the one. Four way stop. Everyone (except this crayon) knows how to deal with a four way stop. Look to your right, if there is someone there you wait. Once the guy on your right has gone, its your turn. Simple.
Enter Mr. Traffic-cop-wannabe. He is waving people through the intersection and we are trying desperately to ignore him and with that, hopefully, force him to get with the program. But no! Mr. Crayon-traffic-cop must let someone go ahead of him, thus fucking up the whole process. He thinks he is being Mr. Courteous, when all he is doing is inspiring vehicular homicide.
It was all I could do not to get out of my car, march over to him and slap him across the face with a dead fish. Fortunately for him I was presently out of dead fish, so I just put my head down on the steering wheel and prayed for him to be zapped off the face of the planet. Or some sort of freak animal encounter. Nothing fancy, but I was hoping for some gore.
Remember, I still had no coffee. He really doesn't realize who he is dealing with.
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