(Warning: Vulgar language ahead. Usually I don’t like swearing, but I directly quote pickup-artistry in this post because I want to argue against it)
A few days ago, I was traveling in Seattle, Washington. The traffic there is notorious for being bad, and I had the fun experience of being able to enjoy it firsthand. I was driving along one of the streets downtown and saw was a green traffic light in the intersection in front of me, about 20 or 30 feet away.
“No problem,” I thought as I pressed down on the gas pedal. “I’ll make that with time to spare.”
I didn’t.
As I approached the intersection, the car from the adjacent lane suddenly pulled in front of me—without signaling—and stopped right there. My foot slams on the brake, my Starbucks coffee begins to spill out of its cup, and my car makes a horrible SCREEECH noise as it continues to slide ever so slowly towards the car in front of me. I close my eyes and cover my face with my arms.
A deafening silence pierces the next few seconds. I cautiously lower my arms to see the damage. There was none. My car had come to a stop mere centimeters away from the one in front of me. The driver who cut me off was busy texting away on her phone, completely oblivious to the destruction that she almost caused.
My response:
I’m a calm and gentle person by nature and it takes a lot to get me angry. So, when something does get me ticked off then you better believe it’s a big thing.
This ticks me off. Buckle up because it’s about to get real.
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