Friday, May 6, 2011

The Many Drivers Who Bring Me Rage

Yesterday's commute was one of my all time worst, taking an hour and a half to get from Fairfax to DC. There was no bad weather, no accidents, major construction, or anything that might explain the delay--but plenty of jerkwads on the road, each of whom deserves to be infinitely poked with a stick in hell:

1) The jerk in the minivan who didn't want to let me in front of him at the merge on I-66. Hey, I realize you drive a minivan so your life is basically over. Please do the honorable thing (the Japanese call it "seppuku") and don't take your walking dead jerkiness out on me. The traffic was at an unexplained standstill anyway, you would only have saved yourself about ten feet.

2) The people who waited to merge onto the beltway until the last possible second, so they had to cut in front of a half-mile worth of traffic that was patiently waiting their turn in the exit lane. Yes, you all deserve to be fed alive to ants. You can see a long line of us backed up to use the exit, but you still shoot ahead to merge, calculating that someone will let you in, and knowing that you're too damn important to wait on a line. You are also creating a hazard for the regular lanes on 66, because now other drivers have to swerve around you as you wait to merge late into our lane. Seriously, your gene pool is a septic tank and unfortunately evolution hasn't finished off your putrid lineage. Die quickly for the sake of mankind.

3) The prison bus that cut me off on Maine Avenue, causing me to miss my green light. I don't normally wish on anyone to be brutally murdered by their passengers, but let's just say in the event of a prison bus riot I won't be dialing 911. I'll be dialing 9-1-FUN. Which doesn't make any sense, but I am hopping mad.

4) The lovely lady on G street who pulled out in front of me to do a K-turn, forcing me to nearly t-bone her and of course miss my green light. May all your wart problems be permanent. (I can't actually wish cancer on anyone, so that'll have to do). Or may the next driver you encounter have a weaker brake system and slower reflexes.

5) To the jerk in front of me in an SUV with Obama stickers. I sort of hope Obama raises gas taxes just so you can cry in your irony. (Yes, it's not really irony, but this driver was a tool). You weren't really worse than the other drivers, but your erratic stops and starts made the traffic jam extra challenging. May all your dreams go unfulfilled.

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