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Thursday, July 28, 2005
You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry
Today’s Lesson in Irony is brought to you by the letters J, E, R and K.
So there I was, there I was on the Drag. I’d given up on Schlotzsky’s (no parking) and was caught up in the traffic jam, drifting helplessly northward in the right lane.
The traffic was flowing again after a red light when a guy in a white truck cut across the lane out of nowhere. Apparently the van in the left lane had stopped to let him turn into the UT campus.
Of course, the woman in the Honda in front of me had no clue this guy was coming — and she hit him. Not very fast, but there was an audible collision.
Then the guy in the truck went nuts, cussing (I’m guessing) and pounding every surface of his truck’s interior with his fists in Tarzan-like fury. This guy just about exploded in a rage I imagine went something like this: “What WAS that woman THINKING when she drove FORWARD in her OWN LANE!? Shouldn’t she EXPECT white trucks to APPEAR out of nowhere AT ANY TIME?!!”
He jerked the truck to a stop and leaped out, apparently on the verge of turning green, developing huge muscles and rampaging through campus in shredded purple pants (OK, I’m getting a little carried away, here). He walked around to survey the devastation.
Hardly a scratch — at least no serious damage I could see. He calmed down enough to pull the truck off the road, followed by the poor woman in the Honda who probably decided right then and there to either take a self-defense class or become a nun.
Me? After watching it all unfold, I was thinking he probably did more damage himself to the interior of his own truck than the Honda did to the exterior.
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