I was going south on my street and heading into an intersection which is offset and which seemingly has the world’s slowest traffic light. I don’t know why, but I saw her behind me in my rearview mirror and it made some sort of impression. The light turned and I went through the intersection, she following me as I was taking a Deerfield shortcut through Poet’s Corner, so named because the streets have names of poets. There are streets there named Longfellow and Kipling.
I reached the next intersection with Waukegan Road. I am waiting, she is behind me. I am turning left, as is she. The light turns and I wait because there are two lanes coming toward me across Waukegan Road and one of them either turns left or goes straight. The lanes were filled. For whatever reason, she beeps her horn at me. I was not happy as I was being cautious and with reason, this intersection is known for its fender benders. I waited until it was clear and then I turned left.
We were both on Waukegan Road going south, I was in the left lane and she quickly pulled into the right lane. We both had our windows open and she glares at me as she passes and screams something unintelligible at me, showing her ire in a mean face.
Is my neighborhood full of the nastiest people ever? Is this an aberration? Has forty-five unleashed every possible mean moment possible in every aspect of our lives?
I was really angry and as I soon passed her on the left, I actually screamed out the window at her, losing my cool, but in retrospect I didn’t actually swear. Truth be known, I never do that.
I am concerned. This is an apparent mom, a woman who gets angry for no reason whatsoever, impatient as all get out. As we used to say, “impatient to get to one’s own funeral.”
It is definitely time for an intervention.