Driving on the beltway today, I was thinking about how the cars weaving in and out of each other looked like a dance. If that dance were a death wish, combined with rage and idiocy.
Drivers here are terrible.
Initially, I let myself think, McKenna, you are just a precious girl from nowhere Kansas. You don’t understand what it’s like to drive in a city, where people’s lives are so important and busy.
I even let myself think, people here drive so fast because they care so much about being punctual, and that is beautiful.
But the bulls**t stops here, I lie no more.
I wasn’t caught so off guard by the drivers here because they are great city drivers. It is, in fact, because they are awful. I’m not weird because I grew up with the bumpkin delusions that red lights and speed limits matter, THEY’RE weird because they think they don’t. They don’t understand blinkers or pedestrian crosswalks; yellow lights or white lines. They get in their cars and all that is humane leaves them until they are nothing but crazed speed racers cutting me off.
Which is why, when a woman slowed to let me MERGE ONTO THE HIGHWAY the other day, I nearly cried. I found myself over-responding to her kindness because it had been so darn long since I experienced road-way courtesy. I was waving, blowing kisses, and throwing roses at her car.
When you’re used to operating in one extreme, any semblance of normalcy can really light your fire.
Beware the mid-atlantic byways, and for godssake, midwest people, kiss the ground you drive on.
And then get the hell out fo the way, someone from Baltimore might be passing through.
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