I Was A Victim Of A Pirate’s Road Rage

 

So there I was simply doing my typical drive to my parents for Sunday dinner. (That's right, in addition to talking to my mother several times a day, we go there for dinner every Sunday - tell me every mother and father don't want a Jewish gay son!) So we're driving along in the 100+ degree heat and getting ready to pick up dinner to take to my parents. We love coming in screaming, "Meals on Wheels!" So we stop at a light when we can't help but notice that the man in the car to the left of us is rolling down his window. In a voice so gravelly that he sounds as though he's still munching on broken glass he screams at us, "It's 35 miles an hour NOT 50 back there!" He was so salty sounding that all I could think was that he was missing a patch and a parrot. I was a victim of a pirate's road rage - Don't Get Me Started!

I know that we truly disappointed the old seafarer as our reaction was to have no reaction at all. I guess I just couldn't believe that he was yelling at me about this and it was so hot that we never even opened up the window to hear the rant full volume. After he made his declaration he rolled his window back up and then we all had to sit there just feeling uncomfortable. (You know, like when someone tells you that they can't have children or something. I mean, what do you say to that? So you just sit there, make that empathy face you've no doubt practiced in the mirror and then eventually the air clears and everyone goes back to being normal.) The good news was that this was not one of the longer lights so the awkwardness lasted less time than a lull in the conversation or inappropriate comment.

I did notice that he had a handicapped placard hanging from the rear view mirror of his dinged up Hyundai SUV. Perhaps he was mentally challenged? (Is that the correct term?) Or perhaps he went crazy when his parrot died? Or maybe with the heat, his peg leg had started to shrink up as the moisture went out of his leg. I don't know what his ailment was but rest assured it was something mental.

As we started driving Michael said that he was bummed it took him by such surprise as he wished he would have rolled down the window and just given a loud, "ARGHHHHHH!" And perhaps that's what was needed as it would have been communicating with him in his own language. I don't know, perhaps I was speeding but did it warrant screaming such as this? Apparently to him it did.

When I was an assistant choreographer at Disneyland they called me, "Peter Pan" no doubt due to my boyish good looks and energy and I'd like to think to this day I could still play the role if the right lighting designer was on board with the project. So perhaps this pirate was Captain Hook coming after me, Peter Pan. I don't recall seeing another hand or hook on the steering wheel but perhaps it was there, that infamous hook. Whatever the reason, the good news is that he didn't have his cannon or pistol with him or even his plank. I guess if you have to be the victim of road rage, better a pirate than a man with gun. (Because as the musical, Annie Get Your Gun taught us, "You can't get a man with a gun!") I was a victim of a pirate's road rage - Don't Get Me Started!

Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com

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sixtyorso 8 years ago from South Africa

I can kind of viualise the SUV as an Oriental Pirate Galleon. Luckily he did not kidnap you and make you walk the plank. But it seems his verbal tirade was scary enough. Maybe he was an off duty cop or simply jealous that his vehicle could not do 50? Maybe you guys just looked to happy and carefree for this guys sour disposition. He is probably one of those guys who block the fast lane on the freeway at exactly the speed limit and rants and raves at everyone who to tries to pass him or who hoots or flashes their lights, hence the worn out gravelly voice!

Great Hub. I hope you still enjoyed sunday lunch at Moms.


somelikeitscott profile image

somelikeitscott 8 years ago from Las Vegas Author

No doubt all you say is true and as for the dinner, what could be better than my weekly in person meal of guilt?

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