Red means stop

Before I get started, go visit my friend PJ's blog for her awesome holiday kick-0ff giveaway. What is the prize? Fab gift card to Amazon. I have started my wishlist already.

Now, down to business.

As I wheel around this over-saturated city of mine, I use music (and absorption of sunshine when available) to increase the odds of a pleasant commute. I must inculcate patience as an ongoing process and what better place to practice than the car, especially during traffic.

While I may be quick to point out foolishness on the road, I am quite congenial about letting other cars in. You know what I mean. A car needs over into your lane, or needs to cross in front of you whilst you have plenty of space to let them. I rarely see a benefit of being one car length further up the road, so I am very welcoming when other drivers need a little room to budge. Do not dare pull in front of me all jackass-ish and uninvited, but by all means, if you see the courtesy hand wave, come on in.

I need the same courtesy numerous times a week, and often, people are gracious to give it. You know who is not gracious? The wretched woman behind me Friday. Let's discuss.

I am driving down Peachtree and see the red light ahead. I stop sooner than needed to let a car out of an office park. No one is moving, believe me, I am far from creating a traffic jam.

Suddenly, I hear a long and labored horn honking. In fact, I heard so much horn honking I think perhaps there was real danger looming. I look in my rear view mirror, and evidently, the woman behind me in her large truck, wanted to send me a message. Well, unless that's Morse Code you are tapping, I can't decipher. So be a lamb and let's just dial down on the volume, ok?

Perhaps she had cloudy pupils rendering her incapable of seeing the large red orb hanging down above the street a mere 80 feet in front of us, but red means stop.

I gave her a friendly wave because at that moment, it seemed fun. And there are only so many hand gestures available. Then the show began. In addition to the horn honking jamboree, she was waving her arms madly. Charades? I would love to play.

Is there a bee in there with you? No? Oh, you are a baby monkey climbing a tree? Wrong again.

Ohhh, I know! Orchestra Conductor!!!! No?

Mime in Central Park? Hmm.

Oh, an ass? YIPPPEEEEE! I knew I would finally get it.

And by the way, when you do that, hold that horn down for oh, 10 seconds at a time, that does not fluster me even a morsel. And did you flip me off? How very Corey Feldman of you.

So I did what any nice driver would do (especially one planning on making a point). When the light turned green I had two options. Move ahead which was clearly what Angrylina wanted me to do. OR, I could NOT move along. As the cars surged ahead, I now had even more room to be a good Samaritan so I let a few more cars out. It was the end of the day after all, and there was a line of about twenty cars waiting to exit.

And as I patiently let a few sneak out, each one waved, and I waved back. All the while treated to a concerto of Ford Motor Vehicle Horn.

The point is, we had to stop for the light anyway so don't be ridiculous. And thankfully, she stopped honking. Much more and I would have had to stop for a cocktail. Come to think of it, she likely worked up a thirst with that flailing arm workout and was in desperate need of a cocktail too.