4PM - 7PM: The time frame that constitutes the Bermuda Triangle for your soul if you're commuting by car. A piece of my soul was blackened, necrotized, broke off from the rest of me, and fluttered out my driver's window on Tuesday during these hours shortly after I came over the Key Bridge and turned left on Lee Highway, ready to sit at the light to merge onto 66. If you're familiar with this area, you're familiar with the stop sign that will sit to your right as you wait for the light to change. If you're familiar with this area, you also know that this stop sign is NOT treated like a stop sign AT ALL. That motherfucker in bright red with "STOP" emblazoned right across the center in a stark contrasting block white font might actually say "FUCKING PEEL OUT OF HERE AS QUICKLY AS YOU FUCKING CAN!! THERE'S A RABID PANDA THAT HAS ESCAPED FROM THE ZOO THAT IS GNAWING ON YOUR BUMPER AND IT'S GOING TO MAUL YOUR FACE OFF NEXT. FUCKING GO!!!"
But I don't actually know, I'm just speculating based on the behavior I've seen of people departing from this stop sign as if they were Nancy Kerrigan at the '94 Olympics with Tanya Harding hot on their tail. I've almost died twice at this stop sign. Once, when an irate Ethiopian cab driver (no, I don't know for sure if he was Ethiopian and yes, I am being racist. He was black, had an accent, and there was a strong perfume of coffee emanating from his taxi. Where do YOU think he was from, for crying out loud.) decided he wanted to floor it out of there right when the light turned green (REMINDER: I HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY) and I proceeded to go, prohibiting him from pulling out in front of me lest both our vehicles end up being turned into instant bumper cars. Homeboy started shouting at me from his car, irate that I didn't let him go. Always a lady, I seized this opportunity to shout "IT'S A FUCKING STOP SIGN, NOT A FUCKING YIELD SIGN. YOU HAVE TO FUCKING WAIT!" out my window, timed precisely when the light turned red again. So I sat there, directly in his line of vision, his car immediately to my right as I was poised to go straight, doing the awkward car dance. And by that I don't mean I was jamming to Hakuna Matata and bouncing all over my car like a pinball on speed with excitement, I mean I was looking at anything I could and being extremely busy...sitting...silently in my car...and avoiding his gaze...doing important car stuff.
To summarize, I really showed him who's boss. He felt foolish. I could tell.
Moving on, my next near death encounter happened on Tuesday. Sitting a car length back from the suggestion sign of doom, I noticed the car in front of me let the first car waiting at the stop sign go ahead of her when the light turned green. "Huh, that was uncharacteristically nice," I thought to myself as I tapped my gas to continue onward.
I was immediately pummeled back to DC driving reality as an obese cunt (I said it. Please don't tell my mother) came flying out of the stop sign at such a speed that she shocked us both, and we both slammed on our brakes. I'd like to take this time to again remind you that she was at the stop sign, and I had a green light, and therefore the right of way. As I gave this overweight whore a "WHAT THE FUCK?!" face, she turned to me, and gave me a wide, floppy cunt smile, and a thumbs up. This breezy beef curtain then proceeded to pull out in front of me and put on her left turn signal to get into the turning lane, blocking my lane and the lane next to me.
I was so flabbergasted I didn't even think to act like a DC driver and lay on the horn for no productive reason other than to let everyone else know I was irritated.
So uh...yeah. That was it.
Then on Friday I got a phone call from my coworker as I was driving home saying I'd cut her off merging onto 66 at this very location. It's just a danger zone really.
I really like ending posts with a pertinent picture. You're welcome:
