It was a saturday morning, so I was expecting absolutely no traffic. However, there is a part of Power Inn road that for the length of one block turns into one lane. I am used to this part being backed up on weekdays, especially during rush hour, and on saturday morning it's usually a breeze. So when I drove from the end of the one lane section to the part where it goes back into two lanes and was forced to STOP because of traffic being backed up, I was incredibly surprised.
(once again, this is the CLEAN, NON-OFFENSIVE version of this story, which has been intensely cleaned up for inclusion in my blog ... the dirty, OFFENSIVE version is available only on a personal one-on-one face-to-face basis)
The lane that I was in had four or five cars in it. I switched to the other lane and found only one car. Apparently, two cars full of gang-related African-American gentlemen fount it neccessary to park their cars in the middle of both lanes of traffic so that they could talk to one another. No doubt they were talking about German philosophers or perhaps they were debating Roe v. Wade. I do not know the exact pertinent sociopolitical reasons that were behind their need to block traffic so that they could smoke weed and shout loud profanities at one another while cranking up rap music, but I felt myself getting slightly agitated.
After a period of about thirty seconds, I decided that the best course of action would be for me to try to squeeze through the suicide lane past the young weed-smoking Harvard graduates having the middle of road discussion. So I drove into the suicide lane and squeezed past one of the cars now on my left, which had three young, baggy pants wearing geniuses hanging out of the windows. Once I passed the car, the three genius African-American gang members jumped into their car and decided to drive next to me, flip me off, and shout profanities.
I sped up, not wanting to discuss the pros and cons of lethal injection with a car full of professors. But the young Africans decided to match my speed, speeding up, not allowing me to get back onto the street. "Ha ha ha, enough tomfoolery, you fine young black gentlemen," I thought, "I can't be playing these silly lollygagging car games when I have to go to my place of employment." But, not caring about my financial status, these young men decided to match my speeds, even when I sped up to seventy and eighty miles per hour.
It was right around eighty-three miles per hour when I noticed a huge, gaping pothole and a two-by-four in my path. With no other choice, I swerved left to avoid these obstacles. This caused the pot smoking scholars to screech their tires as they swerved to the left lane. Taking my swerving as a sign of aggression, the geniuses seemed to get even more agitated, throwing bottles at my car as I tried to speed past them at speeds past eight five miles an hour.
Having played a LOT of "True Crime" in the past week, I decided to try to lose them by hitting the brake HARD, going from eight five to twenty five in a matter of seconds and leaving the car full of respectable African-American businessmen speeding past me. I thought my problems were over. But once they noticed what I had done, the slowed to a stop and parked yet again in the middle of the road, eagerly awaiting me to pass them.
WHen I passed them, I tried to make a shoulder shrugging, perplexed face to them, hoping that they would realize that I had NO IDEA why the things that were going on were going on. They yelled at me and decided to tailgate my car, their front bumper mere inches from my trunk as I drove down Power Inn. I didn't look at them in my rear view, primarily because I was frightened and only secondarily because I have no rear view mirror. They tailgated me for a good three minutes until, for unknown reasons, they turned left, leaving me to probably read medical journals and memorize the dictionary.
It would be wrong of me to use this harrowing incident to make Bill Cosby-like assumptions regarding those of lower classes. Instead I'm all smiles today. Life is still great, regardless of ignorant huckfoles.
Anybody want a hug?
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