The sound of the horn caught my attention. I was standing outside of the Starbucks on Thayer, waiting for the bus. A woman was beeping angrily at the car in front of her. The older guy was parked on the street, right in front of the FroyoWorld. She had mistakenly thought he was waiting for the red light, like everyone else, until he didn’t budge. I don’t think his car was even on. She drove around him, and if I know anything about road rage, she probably shouted some very savory words at his window. What was he doing? Was he picking someone up? Did his car break down? Why didn’t he put on his emergency lights? Why was I giving so much thought to this, is this what my life has become?
Anyway. Cars came and went. Some fell for his trickery, others knew the game he was playing and drove right past his ass. I watched, annoyed at his lack of consideration. Everyone knows you can’t just park your car in the middle of Thayer. I had gotten the arrival time of my bus wrong (cause I’m brilliant like that) so I had a few minutes of waiting to witness the ridiculousness that was to transpire.
A young guy stopped behind him. Brown hair, white skin. An average-looking dude, I guess. Except he was driving a badass red sports car. It was a bad mama jama. Was it a Mustang? Perhaps a little red corvette, which baby, is far too fast? Made in America or Japan? I wouldn’t be able to tell ya. Cars aren’t my thang. Alls I know is that it was a sweet-looking ride. So he just waited. Waited calmly behind the old guy. He waited for about 3 minutes. I am not even joking. Cars whizzed by the two of them. I watched him as he watched them go by, and no type of reaction. Why wasn’t he catching the hint? Did he want to park in that spot as well? Was he waiting for someone, too? Does he not notice that this is a traffic jam of just two people? Again, why was I so invested in this shit?
After a while he started to get annoyed. It was a quick beep. Kinda like, bp!
The old guy in the gold-ish car was not pleased at being disturbed. He looked through his rear view mirror, waving the cell phone in his hand angrily. He retaliated: Bip!
I couldn’t help but laugh as they had a beep off. A lady next to me with bleached hair and a painted on-face watched along. She seemed neutral about the whole thing. Like, she didn’t wanna pick sides. Rude. The older guy won the beeping contest, obviously, since he doesn’t have any shits to give.
Finally, the young guy had enough, revved his engine and drove past him. But not before chucking the middle finger. It was glorious. I get why he was mad. The old guy was being a major douche by holding up traffic. He obviously felt some sense of entitlement. But what I don’t get is…why did the guy wait for so long to get the hint, to drive around?
My chariot, the bus, arrived and I hopped on like the adorable little bunny I am. I kept on thinking about that insignificant interaction, kept thinking about it even though I was sure the two participants had already forgotten it. What’s the point of being in an expensive, fast, and flashy car if you’re just going to wait? Even if he was on a rusty, wheel-less unicycle, why patiently wait as everyone speeds by you? Why stay stuck in front of the damn FroyoWorld when there are so many places to go and see and so many people to talk to and laugh with? You don’t have to be angry all the time and flick the guy off when you bypass him, but just…go.
Since I have to make something out of nothing all the time, a thought came into my head: I have been that guy in that red sports car.
For a long time I have waited, stuck behind everything else. Seeing a way around things but choosing to be stuck. Getting fed up only when the other person beats me at a beep off. I’ve been all types of pissy at the world when it has been my own fault that I am stuck, all types of jealous when the world kept speeding past me. I never again want to be that guy in that sports car.
Maaaaaan. That guy looked so foolish, waiting behind a damn parked car. There’s no place for that. Being caught in a one-man traffic jam is unacceptable. I’d rather be struggling to get by on a rickety unicycle than be halted in time like that guy in that red sports car. It’s time to go, man, time to speed on by and win the Indy 500. No need for beeping, just for speeding.
As my former boss says: Either you roll with me or you’re getting rolled over!