Friday, August 28, 2009


Banana yellow, to be precise. A banana yellow Chevy Aveo with duct tape holding the hatch shut.

Traffic yesterday morning was, well, as traffic often is, in need of Sudafed. And, as is often the case, the lanes took turns letting up. And, as never seems to be the case, I was in the lucky lane. I moved with traffic--not too fast, not too slow, and steadily--as car after car migrated down McCarran to the freeway.

Suddenly, a teeny beep invaded my foggy awareness, and from the corner of my right eye I glimpsed a man in the less fortunate lane glaring at me. A big man, very fat, with gray hair and a sweatervest, buckled into a limping, banana yellow Chevy Aveo.

Apparently the less-than-gentle man had been endevoring to enter the lane of privilege, and I hadn't heeded his turn signal, making way for the little yellow nose trying to poke out of line. I simply hadn't seen him. He got grumpy with me for not letting him in when I didn't even purposefully snub him; I hadn't noticed his need until he incited his rollerskate to express indignation with a horn of which anyone over the age of eighteen should be embarrassed.

I didn't notice him, for I was burried in a day already rotten by 8:45AM and engaged in scarfing a therapeutic candybar.

He didn't know that when I was dressing that morning I was so bewildered and frustrated at how bloated I was that I ripped off a little button-down shirt, watching the buttons pop off and fly every which way, and then hurled the destroyed top across the bathroom. The old man in the sweet banana ride didn't see the six pairs of black pumps I'd kicked off and left throughout the bedroom, bathroom, hallway, and closet. He didn't see that when I was clawing open a brand new box of tampons from under the sink I ripped the carboard with such force that little biodegradable tubes encased in green paper went flying all over the bathroom, some landing in the tub, some on the floor, some in my sink, and I didn't pick them up before leaving the house.

Ignoring his ire, I shook my head and didn't let off the gas, thinking, Dude, you're a pile of adiposity in a teeny banana car with an embarrassing toot of a horn, and I'm supposed to take you seriously? Not even on a good day, mister, and today's a rotten one.


Jessica said...

mmmmm, therapeutic candy bar. sounds good right about now.

p.s. yesterday i saw a guy on the bus with a discman and it made me think of your post. and i giggled a little inside :-)

Julie said...

Would you have taken him more seriously had his horn had a bit more testosterone?

Sorry 'bout your crap day.

Megan said...

I certainly would have taken more heed at least, Julie.

lindsey v said...

The color yellow stands for 'ignore', doesn't it? At least in my rule book it does.

L said...

Lindsey V. brings up a valid point, although I thought yellow meant speed up. Perhaps he ought to equip his car with a foghorn if his little beep isn't doing the trick. I really do cherish moments when people honk at me, just makes me grin and want to screw with them even more.

Morgan said...

i'm really good at pretending i don't see people signal.
what does that make me?
what harm would it do to just let a guy over? yet, i pretend to be oblivious and keep on going.

Walker said...

Oh! I love ignoring people! I drive a lot...every rush I'm really good at ignoring signals, speeding up at yellows, and (my new fav) tailgating. I really like it when people go the speed limit (or faster, but I'll leave you alone if you're following the rules), so is it wrong if I encourage others to go a little faster?