That’s MISSES B**** to you.

patience

This is my first proper post in a few weeks because life has become more than a bit crazy. Not that I haven’t written a bazillion posts in my head, or my journal, but those don’t do you any good.

If I had to put a theme to many of the mental posts I’ve written lately, the theme would be “People need to Relax”. Which is nicer than “People can be Jerks”. Because either could work.

Kat Bouska had a prompt for her Writing Workshop last week titled “The time someone called you a name”, which was timely, because it seems that I have been hearing the “b” word quite a bit, and from total strangers.

I assure you, I am not.

I may be sarcastic. (Fine. I AM sarcastic.) But I’m not mean or rude, and would never shout at someone in public.

But it seems to me that lately, I am finding far too many people wandering out there on the road and in this world with no manners or patience. Let me give you an example:

Last week I was headed home from chiropractor with Miss M. It was about 5pm, so the commuter traffic was piling up through our little downtown area, which is bisected by the commuter rail tracks. Traffic was at a crawl, and as trains both pull into and out of the station, the crossing rails drop. I could see down a side street that another train was just pulling into town, so I knew that the rails would be dropping again soon, which means that little forward progress would be made. Because of this, I let someone (who also had been waiting patiently, and probably longer than me) on the side street to turn out in front of me.

My little random act of kindness for the day.

For which I was repaid by both a friendly wave for the person let in…and a shout of “thanks a lot, you b*. Some of us want to get home!” from the car behind me.

I’m pretty sure that I wanted to get home, too. In fact, it was a probably a safe bet that everyone driving at that moment had someplace they wanted to be. Or needed to be, if they didn’t want to be there. Either way, even if I hadn’t let that person in, I wasn’t going to make it past the tracks before the gate went down, so there was no point of yelling at anyone, because he wasn’t getting through them, either.

Determined to be the better person, I gave him a friendly wave.

He waved back, but his wave had only one finger. Classy guy, he was. I sighed, and sent him mental wishes for a better evening and a boatload of patience.

Something similar had happened a few weeks prior, only this guy was speeding through our neighborhood. I had pulled out of our subdivision when a car roared up out of no where, passing me on the left in a 25mph no passing zone at what had to be 50 mph. I honked at him as he passed. He pulled in front of me – and slammed on the brakes. Scary.

His window went down, and he began to shout at me. “Stupid b*. Learn to drive!”

Whu-what? He passed me. On the left. In a no-passing zone. At about double the speed limit. And a half-block from the stop sign. If there was a cyclist on this road and he didn’t see them, he could have seriously caused some major damage! A bicycle accident attorney would be on him sharpish.

He continued to shout as he drove away, and when I caught up to him at the next light (because obviously, speeding got him there faster) he continued to shout obscenities at me. I can’t write what he said, because my third-grade teacher reads this and I do have a FEW standards left, and I’ve reached my limit of bad language in one day.

In all honesty, we’ve had more than the average number of encounters with seriously angry drivers shouting obscenities, once late at night on a busy off ramp with a toll booth where we were passed on the left (and no, we weren’t going too slow) and another in a parking lot AT A SOCCER TOURNAMENT where we had been somewhat patiently waiting for about 15 minutes to wind our way through to an open space when a dude started swearing at us because we actually stopped to let someone out so we could take his space. Imagine that – someone wanting a parking space at a huge tournament!

Oh, and his kids were in the back of his car. And as he threw out a few more choice zingers, he roared off through the still busy lot..

A really, really fine example he was setting for the kids in the back of his fancy-dancy SUV.

Really, I wish I could store patience in soda cans and just toss someone a cool one when they start to mentally overheat.

All I could think was “Dude. You need to calm. The. Heck. Down.”

And also, if we must get into manners,

“That’s MRS. B* to you.”

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