This weekend I was on my way down to the beach to see my parents, grandparents and aunt/uncle/cousin when I was suddenly interrupted on my peaceful drive. As I'm coming up I-40 (a three lane road, speed limit 65 MPH), I notice that I, and all the cars in front of me, are slowing down to approximately ....45 MPH (not safe for highway speeds) and I have my fingers crossed that there is a flaming wreck that we are all stopping for up in the distance (to provide some form of entertainment on a 4 hour ride). As I get up over the hill, I see nothing, all the other lanes are going the appropriate speed and so I see where the problem lies. A white minivan.
The minivan was plastered with "Celebration DJ" and my first thought is that this DJ caters to the planned old people community in the planned town of Celebration, FL. This is the only possible explanation for why he is driving 20 MPH below the speed limit. Then, like a jesus miracle from on high, the AARP member switched into the right lane and the crowd that had built up behind him broke free. Soon it was my turn to whiz by him and give the the signature scowl that us Jersey boys are known for. I was beyond excited.
As I'm just about to pass, he swerves (or tries) into the center lane, even though there is no one in front of him in the right lane. But this man decides he needs to slow down traffic in the center lane and I will not let him. There was probably about 2 car lengths between the car in front of me and myself and I think a senior citizen driving a large minivan that handles like a tank, might be a tad dangerous. So he swerves back out to the right lane, swallows his pride and decides to try again. Again, I do not let him and I lay on the horn real hard for about 10 seconds (this could've been minutes, I might've blacked out I was so mad). He then mouths "LET ME IN" into his side mirror." And I say "NO" but with my finger and my horn.
He then proceeds to squeeze his way in and (of course) slow down. I pass him instantly, show off my long awaited "glare face" and notice that he is indeed an old man, but he wasnt dressed in the appropriate DJ attire (Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses around the neck), which leads me to believe that he stole it or that he was recently fired for not getting the memo that all birthday DJ's must wear Hawaiian shirts. Nonetheless, he never even looked my way (for fear of the glare) and I moved on with my day, seething with enough road rage to kill a bushelfull of chipmunks.
Short story, Tragic Ending.
1 comment:
I was in the back of the van. Humping.
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