...shiny metal boxes.
Spiral down to realty…
The painted markings at this point, change, letting you know that the one lane has-to make a right, while the other may continue, forward. Racer X in front of me slows as we come up on the line of stopped cars in front of us, the traffic lights and intersection visible, but ten cars or so, ahead.
Again I read her bumper stickers; Skatelab on the glass of the rear window; something else-but-illegible on the bumper. No pokey, I’ll give her that.
A Simi Valley-ite, that’s my guess, though not much of guess, as most of the cars will be heading that way. I wonder for a moment at the condition of the car: stationwagon, a family car, but looking a little dusty, worn; and that sticker in the back widow is faded; hand-me-down? It could—
We’re not moving and we’ve been here a long time…
I notice that yet again, the cars coming opposite are coming opposite. That means that we didn’t make the light. No, it means that our light never changed.
Side view mirror, I check the right lane behind—no one’s there—no one’s ahead—roll out quickly, step on it, instantly annoyed. What the—?
The guy six cars ahead has the same idea but I’m way quicker on the draw. I think about rolling farther to the right, to the curb if I have to, just in case, but he sees me, and stops pulling out. I pass by and he starts again; I took it and I’m not stopping.
Coming up on the right, I see the lead car. Yep… they’re back, clearly not forward enough to trigger the sensors. I can see the ovals outlined in the asphalt in front of her.
Why do people do that? You’re supposed to pull up to the crosswalk; not stop twenty feet behind it.
And what are they doing? Haven’t they noticed that everyone else gets to go except their side?
Rolled-out car six is behind me, coming, but I slow. I’m taking a moment…
Aha. She’s texting and completely unaware. * Blarnt-blarnt! * and I simultaneously motion with one arm pointing, yelling: Roll forward!… over exaggerating the words to get them through the rolled-up glass.
She visibly jumps, but I’m so annoyed I take no pleasure; not even later.
The light’s still red, and there’s only this one guy across the intersection who could make a right turn in front of me. Nope…I’m going… as I gun it across the intersection, running the light. He probably had the right of way, but not the green light.
Screw it. I had credits: we were supposed to have gone a couple lights ago, the goddamn rotation skipping us who-knows, how-many-times while Miss-Omg,like im so sure she said that. iknow what youmean… sat there, clicking away, deaf and dumb-clucking away… oblivious. Come on, Lady; I just want to go—all of us, just want to go…
Three-hundred-yards down the road, and I glance in the rearview to see that she has
rolled forward, because now the light has changed.
Whatever. I’m already gone…