IT'S JUST ANOTHER DAY

A blog about a life awakened and rejuvenated around Western New York.


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WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES

Post Blizzard of 2014b – Day 1: A dusting covered the cars and the municipal snow plows spewed onto the groomed apron of my driveway. But no snow was falling when I left for work. The roads were snow covered, but scraped down and the ABS brakes on my car give me the sensation of grinding my teeth badly. A slow trek, but what the heck my driving skills needed to be challenged. And they were.

There was that idiot in the BIGGER SUV than mine whose balls paled in comparison to the plastic prosthetics that hung from his trailer hitch. There was the lady who drove like NASCAR was a slow joyride. The elderly gent who was hell bent on skirting into the McDonald’s parking lot to take his place amongst his cohorts after nearly swiping the utility truck, was a moveable obstacle for sure. And to think I stayed home yesterday in part to avoid driving in the hellacious blizzard conditions, only to take my life into my hands the day after.

Their antics did not make them better drivers. Their reckless attitude toward others on the road, never mind themselves, was an affront to common decency. Twenty-four hours after the “city of good neighbors” pulled together in our weather induced dilemma, it was business as usual in the self-centered minds of these morons. It’s as if a cheer went up in unison. “Hooray for me! Screw everyone else!” A very telling comparison. What a difference a day makes!


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WTF, PEOPLE?

WTF!

I’ll make a broad leap here and assume that you learned something in Driver’s Education. I could be wrong, and you’ve taken every opportunity to prove me so. A refresher course is in order.

It’s red. It has eight sides (I won’t confuse the morons amongst you by calling it an “Octagon”). Big bright white letters (four of them, as a matter of fact. I know you know all about four-letter words) that spell out the word S-T-O-P. Stop! As in “Do not go”. I don’t give a rat’s ass if there’s no one coming or in the intersection. I don’t care what time of the night (or early morning) it is . If the f-ing sign is red, and the f-ing sign has eight sides (an Octagon, very good class) and the f-ing sign says stop, then you FUCKING STOP!

You don’t reduce speed and cruise through, you STOP! Don’t look at me approaching WITH THE RIGHT OF WAY and stare me down until the last possible second and still proceed to pull out in front of me, You STOP.

This isn’t meant to be a race to the next sign you totally ignore. It isn’t supposed to be a race at all. What are you saving? Three seconds of your precious life that could have been spent…what? Flipping off the guy you almost killed because he had the audacity to be on the road when you were cruising the boulevard for God knows what.

So I have become “that” guy. The guy that comes to a complete stop and looks in all directions before even remembering I have a gas pedal. Yes, I’m holding you up and maybe saving your life. I’m the guy that drives the speed limit because I know idiots like you are in a hurry. Yes, I’m the guy slowing you down and possibly saving my own life. With all the modern time-saving devices nowadays, there still seems to never be enough time that we have to rush all over ignoring traffic signs, or other drivers, or pedestrians (those are the people that are walking, morons). Life is not a game of Grand Theft Auto or Fast and Furious. Once they’re dead, mangled or injured, they stay that way!

For two straight days I have had near-misses with the same driver no less, blowing through his red light as I start to advance into my green arrow indicated left turn. Who needs rules! I guess they think they have the “right” to drive with reckless abandon. But, there’s a funny thing about “rights”. Yours end when they infringe on my right to stay alive.

And one more thing (now that you revved my engine). Since when has every driver suddenly become a mathematician? I know the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. But the sprint diagonally across a parking lot is as brainless as the aforementioned rant on the sign. (The red one. Eight-sides, S-T-…).

And these are the wide-awake and sober drivers! I won’t even attempt to open THAT can of worms at the moment.

WTF, people?