I’m going to start walking to work.  (*)

I don’t know what the deal has been lately, but twice in the last few weeks I’ve been the subject of angry tirades from dickbags who think the world revolves around them and, crucially, also don’t understand that if I don’t comply with your dickbaggery immediately then it is very unlikely that I’ll comply with your dickbaggery later if you decide to escalate things.

Examples?  Sure.  There is a Taco Bell near OtherJob (which, I suppose, I ought to start calling OnlyJob by now) where the drive-thru lane funnels you into about thirty feet where the building is on one side and there’s a curb encircling a grassy planted area on the other. In other words, once you’ve ordered food, you’re stuck in that line unless you want to hop the curb.

So I’m attempting to order food and it is taking ridiculously long for whatever reason.  The car in front of me gets their food and an extremely apologetic employee tells me it’ll be another couple of minutes before I get mine.  I wait.  Sure, whatever.  The car behind me is not so patient and starts honking her horn.  I glance in my rear-view mirror and I see that, somehow, she’s yelling at me, gesturing that I need to move forward so that she can pull out.  Now, I’m driving a small SUV, and her car dwarfs mine.  She can easily get over the curb, she just doesn’t want to.  And if I pull out of this line, the cars behind her are going to move forward, and then there’s going to be a clusterfuck, because I’m not going to be able to get back to the window.

So, no, lady, I’m not going to be accommodating you on this.  So I ignore her and stay where I am, but continue to glance in the rear-view from time to time.  Note that I can’t actually hear her, but I can see her continue to yell and gesture.  No.  You hop the curb.  Or just be patient.  This is ridiculous.

Eventually I get my food and she roars away.

Yesterday, again on my way to OtherJob, I’m second in line waiting for a red light in a left turn lane.  I’m maybe a foot off the bumper of the car in front of me– not up his ass, but close enough that there’s clearly no way to squeeze in between us.  To my left is one lane of traffic.  To my right, the going straight/right turn lane and then an entrance to a parking lot for an apartment complex, which is probably closer to the light than it should be, so even though I’m only the second car waiting for the light it’s basically immediately to my right.

A bigass yellow pickup truck turns right off the street I’m trying to turn onto.  He wants into that parking lot, so he just stops, the rear end of his car blocking traffic on the cross street, and starts hollering at me to back up.  If he just completes his turn there are a dozen different places within a hundred yards where he can loop around and turn right into that lot, but no, he wants to turn left.  Through my car, and eventually through the car to my right that wants to go straight.  But no, we can’t do that, so I’ve got to holler at the guy who wants to turn left to back up so that I’m not inconvenienced for twenty seconds.

Again: um, no.  Meanwhile, cars are piling up behind him, because he’s blocking a lane on the cross street.

At one point he actually guns his car at me and lunges a foot or so closer.  This actually gets him eye contact.  Go ahead, asshole.  My car is sixteen years old and has 150K miles on it.  It’s legally old enough to drive itself.  I can handle a dent.

He literally sat there and hollered and blocked traffic for probably a minute or two rather than taking thirty seconds to complete his turn and find a place to turn around.  Meanwhile, I’m starting to muse about how difficult it would be to mount a flamethrower where my running boards used to be.

Ah, humanity.

(*) There is absolutely no chance that I’m going to start walking to work.