I Wonder...

I had occasion to stop by the Redneck Central General Horspital and Sock Emporium a few days ago, visiting Mum (she was in with a generally non-threatening by mighty unpleasant ailment). I drove around and around the parking lot before deciding to bend reality a little and park in the clergy spaces. Now, don't fret; I AM clergy, an ordained minister in fact. It's just that I wasn't really there for clerical purposes, unless you consider clean frilly-unmentionables as spiritually uplifting, which, now that I think of it, I do, so there.

The clergy spots are at one end of the lot, a goodly but not unpleasant or difficult walk to the entrance. Nearer the entrance were spaces reserved for doctors and then handicapped folks, and finally, closest of all, were these:

These spaces were full, save one. As I chanced to walk by, that one was filled by an SUV of enormous proportions. Once it was parked, out stepped two women who were easily in their fifties, perhaps sixties.

I wonder which of the able-bodied women was expecting?

I understand the frustration of finding a parking space at this hospital - it's a wonderful facility, but there's a dearth of parking in their lot, and folks often have to park across the street and hoof it, which can be awkward when bringing supplies or contraband nibblies in to their loved ones.

Frustration or not, unless those women were both illiterate or non-English speaking, and didn't recognize the meaning of the stork picture, what were they thinking? Women in labor don't need to be walking halfway across the lot to check in. Women who are lazy or rude, on the other hand...

And no, I don't give a damn that they were a bit older...they were both perfectly fit, walking quickly and without assistance, neither one on oxygen, neither one handicapped in any visible way. One's age does not privilege one to rudeness and selfish disregard for others and for posted signs.

I was sorely tempted to ask them "So which one of you is expecting?" or "When are you due?"

If I can Keep From Killing Anyone, It'll Be A Miracle!

With the Internet on endless hiatus at Casa de Crazy, phone service on permanent vacation, and the satellite service gone the way of the Dodo bird, we're on the road a little more, visiting friends, visiting Mum, visiting anyone or anywhere that may have wifi I can hunker down on and use for a few minutes.

On the road means dealing with other motorists and their...erm...foibles.

I am fascinated by the habits of the modern motorist - it's like this vast, diverse tribe wherein the only commonality is a propensity for rudeness and inattention.

A motor vehicle is a ton or more of metal, plastic, fuel, and trouble. Why don't people drive as if they know that??

There's the fellow who never uses the blinker. Never. Ever. It's like he was bitten by the blinker wand as a child and now bears severe emotional scarring from the incident. He just changes lanes without letting anyone know he's going to, but we should all be tolerant because he's got that blinker-trauma going on. The rest of us, however, better not try the same thing on him, or there will be hell to pay. Hell, I tell you!!

There's the gal who can't let anyone pass her. She's going ten under the limit until someone tries to get by her - then she's Mrs. Mario Andretti, Jr. Try to ease past just a few MPH faster than she? No way, pal - she'll edge up and block you. Try to kick it up a little more? Sorry, buster, not gonna happen today! Slow down and she'll pace you. If you think you'll get ahead of her because she's approaching slower traffic, think again - she'll hit the gas, jump in front of you, and then slow down again. Life's a race, and if she can keep you from finishing before her, so much the better.

There's the woman who's texting, reading a catalog, and eating at the same time. No, really - I saw her. Luckily, I made it past without incident, but it was a near thing. She doesn't much care about the safety of the people around her - her car is like her house, she can do what she likes and no one has any say in it because this is a free country and fuck you if you think she's not allowed to swing wildly from lane to lane because she's trying to find the umlaut on her Blackberry.

There's the kid who only wants to drive fast, faster, fastest. He'll run right up your tailpipe, honk his horn, flash his lights, drop back and run up on you again. He thinks you're a Water Buffalo in the Cheetah lane, and nothing pisses him off like not being able to go Mach seven at will - never mind that you're in the left lane because you're going fifteen over the limit and passing right-laners like they're parked over there. Junior thinks you're a tortoise and he's about to run you down.

Let's not forget the motorcycles. Crotch rockets. Death on two wheels. Lest you get your knickers in a bind, I know many responsible riders who don't countenance shenanigans on the highway. I'm not talking about that kind of rider. I'm talking about the short-sleeved, short-pantsed, weaving-in-and-out-of-traffic, riding between the lanes, no-turn-signal-using, engine revving, helmet-scorning, no-mirror-using, speed-limits-are-for-chumps, let's race through rush hour traffic kind of rider. The kind of rider who bitches because people in cars don't make way for them or anticipate their every move, who wind up with head injuries and extensive road-rash scarring and mended bones (if they survive), the kind who cause others to have accidents and keep right on their merry way without concern for the mayhem they've wrought.

And finally (for now), the big trucks. Tractor trailers. Usually, I adore these guys. If I'm on a long haul, I'll tuck in with one going my speed and draft a little, let him clear the way for me. If I am in gnarly traffic, maybe four lanes going down to one because of construction or an incident, I will make a truck-sized space for them to get over - especially if they are using their considerable bulk to block the closing lanes and keep assholes from running all the way up to the head of the line and jumping over. Still, there are a few out there who need a bit of...help. Swaying from lane to lane is bad enough in a Nissan - that Peterbilt scares the crap out of me when it starts rocking over into the space my Astro is trying to occupy. Sudden lane jumps are not fun, either. It is especially frustrating when a truck leaps into the left lane like the driver was bitten, only to slow down to a crawl while attempting to pass the truck in the right lane that's moving only slightly faster than Congress passing a tax cut.

Share the road, people. We all want to get there as quickly as possible. We all want to get there alive. Driving is not, contrary to what people seem to believe, is not a right. It's a privilege. Act like you give a damn about that privilege before you kill someone. Or at least, before I finally go entirely off the deep end and decide to defend my piece of road with vigor and possibly a 12 gauge Mossberg. Fair warning.