Nic Narrates

Anyone who’s ever driven in a city knows there are two ways of driving: the way you were taught in Drivers Ed, and the way you learned to effectively get around when there are approximately 2 million other people moving about at the same time. You learn the bob and weave, learn to use turn lanes and sometimes oncoming traffic for passing opportunities, learn back alleys and side streets as escape routes, learn to double up on the last car through an intersection to also make the light, learn which lane to get in at what point on the road depending on the time and the day of the week. That is city driving.

So this morning, as I sat in the center lane of an intersection to turn right (because crossing traffic for the Lake Shore Drive on-ramp backs up and blocks the right-hand portion of the intersection), I was simply doing what any city driver would do. I was going to work and I knew where to avoid getting hung up. Apparently, the silver BMW X5 in the right turn lane next to me didn’t share that knowledge.

When the light turned green, I pulled forward to turn right around the line of stopped cars blocking the intersection, which is when the X5 moved to cut me off. Incredulous, I laid on the horn for dramatic effect and made eye contact with its driver- a twenty-something platinum blond sporting sunglasses on a cloudy morning. I’m going to be straight with you, neither the make and model of her car, nor the physical traits of her persona did her any favors with me. Before I knew what I was doing, I muttered, “cunt.” GASP!

Now, I have to pause for a moment because this is the first time I’ve EVER called anyone this word. In fact, I never say it and I won’t let anyone around me say it either. It’s ugly and hateful and derogatory. But, while I’m not proud of my verbal reflexes today, she shouldn’t be proud of being such a c*nt either. Moving on…

C*nt or not, I knew I was going to let her through, but not before I fucked with her a little. I surged the car forward and slammed on the brakes a few times to make her think I was going to go ahead anyway. She wasn’t very happy about that. When I did let her go, I did so knowing about the double turn lane ahead where I would be cutting her off, which I did. She really didn’t like that.

Normally, you’d think that would be the end of Ms. X5 and her shenanigans, but 10 minutes down the road as I sat in a row of cars on Sheridan, she found me. She slammed on her brakes in the adjacent lane and tried to ridicule me with her own horn blaring. Notwithstanding the cars backing up behind her, her window came down and her sunglasses came off. She extended a tanned and bony arm, and then….a finger. One finger on the hand laden with the weight of her diamond engagement ring and wedding band. My own windows were rolled up and I had music playing, but I was still able to clearly hear her parting epitaph for me: “Fuck you, you fucking bitch!” before she sped off in a blur of bourgie glory.

I proceeded to spend the remainder of my drive to work reflecting on her antics. Hers was not the most creative of come backs, but she got her point across. And I have to hand it to her, she really went out of her way to track me down and tell me to “take that.” I’d venture to guess it was that level of gumption and studiousness that nabbed her the husband who likely bought her that WASPy pre-motherhood crossover. Good for you, honey. Good for you. So it must really suck for someone like her when even one little thing doesn’t go her way in life. With that in mind, I feel fairly certain from what I could see that she’ll wind up being adequately miserable simply by virtue of being who she is.

Lesson learned: driving in the leather-seated comfort of your BMW, to the job you expected your marriage to make obsolete, is hard.

Filed under: city encounters, domesticity is overrated, going postal, hateful, in transit, people should be nicer to each other, poor choices, things people say, toolbaggery, WTF by Nic