“Fucking bitches,” Bruce said. “Stupid, spoiled, bratty fucking whores.”
Ted looked down at Bruce’s drink. He hadn’t touched it for a while and the puddle underneath the glass had begun to soak into the table.
“Long day, pal?”
The juke box was rotating Motown hits with an occasional Rock ballad popping up. The lighting gave everyone’s face that same sinister red tone. The younger folks knocked around the pool table. No one paid much attention to the two men sitting near the corner.
A quiet night. Typical bar scene.
Bruce looked at Ted and smirked.
“I was on my way to campus today,” Bruce said. “I had a bunch of papers to review before class. I was on the freeway, and there was a delay. Traffic had backed up. It was really strange; it was not even twelve yet. Must have been an accident or something. I could see the lanes just jam-packed. I wasn’t going anywhere, so I decided to take the nearest off-ramp.”
Bruce reached for his drink and swirled it a few times, poured a little down his throat. It was watered down from the ice. He pulled back from it, swallowed, then finished it without stopping to breathe. His chair had a bum leg and he wobbled in place every few moments.
“Those fucking bitches,” he said again. Then he laughed to himself.
“What?” Ted asked. “Who are you talking about?”
“The off-ramp had two lanes,” said Bruce. “And I was in the left lane. The flow of the traffic getting off the freeway was moving at a slow pace. Not as slow as the freeway, but kind of like how fast you’d drive through a parking lot. A steady cruising pace.”
Ted finished his drink. He signaled for the waitress and pointed at the table, “You want another drink Bruce? On me . . .”
“Sure, make it bourbon. Neat, this time.”
The waitress had reached the table with a tray, took away their empty glasses and Ted ordered new drinks. The waitress was off to the bar in a heartbeat.
“So, I was in the left lane,” Bruce continued, “and as the off-ramp finally split from the freeway, when the lane dividers on the pavement say ‘you can’t come in past this point,’ this sports car darted in front of me. Well, it tried, but I wouldn’t let it over. I didn’t want some car thinking it was okay to cut in front of me. They didn’t have their signal on, they we’re courteous, or even respectful.”
“They tried to cut you off?” Ted asked.
“And so last minute. Shit, the last minute was miles past!” Bruce boasted. “Fucking bitches,” he said.
“It was a woman?”
“Usually if there’s a pocket between me and the car in front of me,” Bruce said, “I’ll let someone who wants to merge go in front of me. If there’s time, if there’s consideration, sure, no problem. You want to get over? Fine. I respect the other drivers. Common courtesy, all that. But this sports car, it just sped up and halted to my left, all impatient and pushy. Its nose was inching between me and the car in front of me. The driver wasn’t even looking at me, just staring straight ahead like they had already made it. At first I thought, maybe the driver is oblivious, but then I began to get the feeling like it was all intentional.”
“God,” said Ted, “I fucking hate it when people try that shit.”
“Then the driver turned and saw my face, and smiled at me! Just like that, ‘Thanks for letting me walk all over you.’ It was intentional alright. This sports car was like a bully trying to move through the rest of the cars, taking what it wants, leaving the rest of us feeling shallow, hollowed out and thinking to ourselves, ‘Why doesn’t someone do something about this?’ So, instead of being like everyone else, I didn’t let them in. I pushed the gas a little bit, inched along at the parking lot pace that the flow of traffic was moving, and I shunned the sports car from getting in. The car fell back—and, for fuck’s sake, this was way past the point of where the off-ramp lane had divided from the freeway! This car had no business being where it was!”
“Fuck man, that’s aggravating,” said Ted. “Did anything happen after that?”
“Well, after I had moved past this sports car, which was now sitting there, stuck in the dirt, unable to move because of the lack of lanes, or lack of room inside them, I looked over and saw three girls seated in the car. Two in the front, and one in the back. They were young; they didn’t look a day over twenty-one. They had the big over-sized diva sunglasses, the expensive Hollywood hairdos, the jewelry, the nails, the attitude. I drove past and just kept driving.”
“Did they look at you?”
“No, not really. The driver was already looking for the next bitch, the next person to bully, to push out of the way. I reached the intersection just past the off-ramp and changed into the right lane. Something told me to keep an eye on this car, so every block or so I gave a look in the rearview. They had made their way in, and were a few cars behind me, still in the left lane.”
“Were they flipping you off, or anything?”
“I didn’t see anything like that. But still, I decided not to let them out of my sight. Towards the next intersection traffic began backing up from the light. My lane began slowing to a crawl, while the left lane had remained more active. Then they pulled up a few cars back and tried the same maneuver as they had tried with me!”
“Fucking serious?”
“They parked it, the driver vroomed the engine, and they tried pushing their way in past the other cars. But no one would let them in! They sat there, a few cars back, now holding up their lane, and no one would let them change over!”
“Shit!” laughed Ted, “They must try that shit all the time.”
“Right? They had no signal on. They were completely disrespectful, and reckless. I was thinking to myself that the driver must have recently got her license, or just got the car. She drove it like it was a toy, like it was an impenetrable force that she controlled the world with—stopping, slowing, dodging, stopping, bouncing, looking, tires skidding the whole time. It was absurd.”
“Jesus,” Ted exclaimed, “I can’t tell you how many times I see idiots like that on the road, driving like their playing bumper cars and all is forgivable. Fuck man, I wish I could have been there.”
“Just pushing their way around,” Bruce said, “telling everyone what to do, on their phones, yapping, playing the crap they have on the radio these days—and sharing it with everyone, oblivious to their actions, oblivious to the consequences! Meanwhile the world around them wishes for an apocalypse. They wish the hand of God will part the clouds and erase their existence forever.” He shook his head. “This girl didn’t belong behind the wheel of a car.”
The waitress carried over the drinks on her tray. She placed them on the table and Ted paid. Then she was gone.
“So, did they finally get over?”
“No! They had been completely blocked out by everyone!”
They both laughed. They raised their glasses and Ted clanked his into Bruce’s. They tipped their drinks and Bruce continued.
“So here’s the part that disgusts me,” he said. Ted leaned in.
“I had my window down,” said Bruce, “and these girls were still in the lane to my left. The driver pulled away from the lane change attempt, and, as they drove past, in this little sports car, the driver had the passenger roll her window down. I looked over just as they were parallel with me. I could hear dance music playing. It was loud. For a second I thought I heard a Beatles song, but it didn’t sound right. Some kind of remix or something.”
Ted leaned back in his chair, “God, I hate when people do that shit.”
“It couldn’t have been more perfect. So, they’re next to me now, and this fucking bitchy little driver leaned over her friend and whipped something in my direction. It sailed out the window of their car, in through my window and smacked into the passenger seat window with a loud ‘CLANK!’ kind of sound.”
Ted leaned forward in utter surprise. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Bruce laughed. “Can you believe it?”
“Fucking bitches!”
Bruce brought his glass to his lips. “Fucking bitches.”
“What was it?” Ted asked. “What did she throw at you?”
“After they had sped off I looked down and saw a big red lollipop sitting in my passenger seat.”
“I can’t believe that!” Ted hollered. “What kind of person thinks its okay to do that?”
“Stupid, spoiled, bratty fucking bitches.”
“That’s just disgusting, man.”
Bruce nodded. “That’s what I had felt: disgust. I was disgusted. I wasn’t angry. It didn’t raise my temper; it just made me feel dirty, you know? Like I had just witnessed a kid take a shit on the floor inside a Toy’s R Us because she had wanted a new doll and her parents had told her ‘No.’”
Ted exhaled loudly. “Did they just take off after that?”
“Here’s the best part: they didn’t.”
“What?!” Ted slammed his hand on the table and the drinks swished in their glasses.
“Incredible enough, they stayed in the left lane and just kept on. I had to give it to her—it was a ballsy move, but it wasn’t the type of thing that an old bastard like me is going to take lying down.”
“Shit,” Ted said suspiciously. “What did you do?”
“I had to wait to catch up to them—there were a few trucks in front of me hauling something heavy that caused them to go under the speed limit, so that slowed me down. But it gave me time to search for something to retaliate with. I had to work fast—at this point I had reached a few blocks from my turn to go up to campus. I was fishing around and came up with a bottle.”
“What kind of bottle?”
“It was just a plastic water bottle. It had about a swig left in it. So I opened it, and dropped the lollipop down in it for more weight. I had two stoplights to go before my turn and they were about three car-lengths ahead, still on the left.”
Ted began bouncing in his seat. “Oh, please tell me you caught up to them.”
“At the approaching light, the trucks in front of me turned. My lane had opened up. I picked up enough speed to see the sports car approach on the left.”
Ted sat there with an anticipating smile smeared on his face.
“Their lane had begun slowing down. My lane was going steady. And I saw my street coming up fast.”
Ted looked like a school kid hearing a dirty little secret.
“As I got next to them, the sound of their remix dance music had been muffled. They had rolled their windows up.”
Ted was about to explode.
“I leaned out the window and looked at the sports car. I met the driver eye-to-diva glasses. She smiled very big at me and put her hand up, and waved at me like the models do.”
“Fuck,” Ted made a repulsed face, “the fucking model wave?”
“And as they all began snickering behind the glass at this old man driving along that they had just tried to get one over on, I looked at the driver, I smiled back, reached out and chucked the bottle straight at the windshield.”
Ted burst. “Fuck! What happened?!”
“The bottled ricocheted off the driver’s side of the windshield with a loud ‘POP!’ The driver slammed the brakes and a fucking Honda rear-ended her!”
Ted went ape shit. “You’re crazy man! You’re fucking nuts!” The kids at the pool table even were startled. Ted raised his glass again, “Fuck man, you evil son-of-a-bitch!”
“Then my street came, I turned right, and followed it up to campus.”
“That happened today?”
Bruce nodded. “Happened today.”
“I’m buying you another round—Hey! Let’s get a couple more bourbons over here!” As the waitress walked up Ted knocked the rest of his drink back and Bruce sipped his.
Author: Lawrence Goodwin
