Fucking Heat

This whole week at work we've been short-handed since my one employee who's in the reserves (the inspiration for my 'Drunken Tales' blog in June) and another employee who had a week-long family reunion gathering are out. So that's forced me to take it to the streets, which is nice because I could use the physical activity now that basketball has ended.

Unfortunately, today we had another guy out and I (and two other guys) were forced to work solo on a full-day route. This wouldn't normally be an issue except for the fact that it is once again 105 degrees outside and it seemed that every pool I went to had absolutely no shade around it at all. Combine this with the fact that I skipped grabbing breakfast and a gatorade this morning, and by 1 PM, I'm delirious and very irritable.

Enter all the jackasses that call Silver Spring home.

I'm driving down Randolph Road and my turn is coming up. I'm in the center lane, so I put on my right hand turn signal even though there's plenty of room and no car within 30 feet of the backend of my van, whose been there for a while.

Apparently, that jackass misinterpretted my right hand turn signal as an indication to speed up, because all of a sudden he's doing Mach 5 coming up on my blind side. Luckily, I'm used to this phenomenon having driven these trucks for 6 years now, so the accident is avoided. However, I haven't eaten or drank anything, so I give him a friendly single digit wave as he drives by.

This is when things get hilarious. I am now behind him and he decides that my wave deserves a retaliation salute and a decelleration to about 20 MPH. Now I'm heated! Fuck my turn, I'm following this asshole to the next light. Mind you, I'm not a violent person and road rage isn't my norm. Well...maybe a little bit.

So, we get to the intersection of New Hampshire and Randolph and the light is red. I'm still behind this asshole, and I haven't stopped jawing at him for the last mile as I tailgate him. It is at this point that I decide to exit my vehicle. Probably not a good call given the number of stabbings and shootings that can happen, though I do have a flat head screwdriver in my pocket in case things get crazy.

So I walk up to his back left window, and give him a piece of my mind. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was basically this. Mind you, I was delirious at this point.

"What the fuck were you doing back there! You could have gotten us both killed. I put my fucking signal on and you had been back there for more than a mile. Then you gotta come up like that. Bullshit. Don't fucking do that shit again."

Thankfully, he and his young daughter (who I just noticed in the backseat...what a great rolemodel this jackass is) stayed in the car, perhaps frightened I was the one who'd be doing the shooting. I hope he pissed his pants so he'd have to explain that to his wife. He won't pull that stunt again. I returned to my truck and made the right down New Hampshire...and thankfully the office received no calls from anyone on site or the police. So I'm feeling pretty good about that. Trust me, I was sweating that from pretty much the moment I got back into the truck. I didn't do anything illegal though...I think?

I blame this fucking heat.