Bryan W. Alaspa 1An open letter (part II): to the jerk who nearly drove me off the road as the ambulance was coming
July 16th 2009 00:08
While it may very well have been that wherever you had to go was much and vastly more important than where I was going, but somehow, judging by the yellow and blue striped “Brady Bunch” shirt you were wearing, I have my doubts. At the very least, the fact that there was an ambulance coming down the street the opposite way should have indicated to you that I was not pulling over because your impressive speed had intimidated me to pull over to let you pass, but because it is the law and common courtesy to pull over for ambulances.
Of course, I had known you were probably well within what I like to call the “A**hole Zone” when I first saw you, your car vibrating as if alive, waiting at the stop sign and wanting to peel off in front of me. Of course, you were able to notice that I had no stop sign on my side of the intersection and were able to obey that law. It must have chaffed you right to your stupid white polo-shirt-style collar that I was now in front of you, and only doing a few miles over the speed limit.
You see, I had forgotten the all-important memo that said that whatever you needed to do was more important that stop signs, ambulances, or common courtesy. Perhaps my copy of the memo got lost in the mail, or maybe stuck in a spam filter. I was not aware that it was “Jerks in Striped Polo Shirts Get to Do Whatever the Hell they Want Behind the Wheel Day.” Silly me for actually pulling over for the ambulance or for thinking that driving in a residential zone, even on a long and straight stretch of road such as this one, is the place for driving twenty to thirty miles over the speed limit.
Obviously, I am not worthy to drive on the same road as you. Obviously, I should just toss out my car and get myself a bicycle, of course, you might just be running me down as I pedal feebly but furiously in my attempt to get home. I guess this planet was designed more for you than for the rest of us mere mortals who decide that driving like an a**hole is not some God-given right, but something only a**holes do.
I guess I should have realized that you live a world where you actually thought that when I pulled over to the right I was doing so in sheer awe of your massive driving skills and sheer automotive power as you drove what looked like maybe it was your dad’s car. Of course, I now realize that this is exactly what I should have done. Obviously, you have more important places to be, more striped shirts to buy, and better things to do with your awe-inspiring life than I might have just trying to get home.
By the way, so enveloped were you in your little world you didn’t even notice I was honking at you and flipping you off with both fingers for nearly two blocks. Also, when we reached that stop sign and I pulled up to your right side to make a right-hand turn, I spit on your goddamn back window. Jerk.
Of course, I had known you were probably well within what I like to call the “A**hole Zone” when I first saw you, your car vibrating as if alive, waiting at the stop sign and wanting to peel off in front of me. Of course, you were able to notice that I had no stop sign on my side of the intersection and were able to obey that law. It must have chaffed you right to your stupid white polo-shirt-style collar that I was now in front of you, and only doing a few miles over the speed limit.
You see, I had forgotten the all-important memo that said that whatever you needed to do was more important that stop signs, ambulances, or common courtesy. Perhaps my copy of the memo got lost in the mail, or maybe stuck in a spam filter. I was not aware that it was “Jerks in Striped Polo Shirts Get to Do Whatever the Hell they Want Behind the Wheel Day.” Silly me for actually pulling over for the ambulance or for thinking that driving in a residential zone, even on a long and straight stretch of road such as this one, is the place for driving twenty to thirty miles over the speed limit.
Obviously, I am not worthy to drive on the same road as you. Obviously, I should just toss out my car and get myself a bicycle, of course, you might just be running me down as I pedal feebly but furiously in my attempt to get home. I guess this planet was designed more for you than for the rest of us mere mortals who decide that driving like an a**hole is not some God-given right, but something only a**holes do.
I guess I should have realized that you live a world where you actually thought that when I pulled over to the right I was doing so in sheer awe of your massive driving skills and sheer automotive power as you drove what looked like maybe it was your dad’s car. Of course, I now realize that this is exactly what I should have done. Obviously, you have more important places to be, more striped shirts to buy, and better things to do with your awe-inspiring life than I might have just trying to get home.
By the way, so enveloped were you in your little world you didn’t even notice I was honking at you and flipping you off with both fingers for nearly two blocks. Also, when we reached that stop sign and I pulled up to your right side to make a right-hand turn, I spit on your goddamn back window. Jerk.
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