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What's the Deal with LA Traffic?

Really, though.

By dkPublished 5 years ago 3 min read
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They say when there’s nothing to talk about, talk about traffic. Normally, I’ll chuckle and roll my eyes with whomever I am chatting with about the standstill on the I-10, or the limited street parking in West Hollywood. But lately, traffic has actually been really awful. So much so that it does need to be talked about, if only for my own sanity.

I consider myself a respectful, careful driver, selectively assertive when I need to be. Sure, I’ll mutter snide comments under my breath when a car stalls for a second too long on a green arrow, but I won’t honk. I’ll barely even move my lips on the slight chance they can see me and all my shady judgement sitting together in my car.

For the past week I have kept my cool demeanor with the lady who wouldn’t let me merge on the 187, the Buick that stole my parking spot at Trader Joe’s, and the guy who shamelessly ran a red light through Centinela. Everyone has a fuse, and mine finally burned out on Lincoln and Venice after a short series of unfortunate events as I was trying to drive home.

Like all good things, I was driving in a lane that had come to an end. Admittedly, I was driving a bit like an asshole, and cut someone off. But it’s not my fault there were cars parked in what should be a tow away zone. I nervously looked in my rearview, hoping I didn’t upset anyone. I sheepishly raised my hand in appreciation only to get a response the opposite of cordial. Emerging from the normal hustle and screeching brakes on Lincoln, roared what sounded like an angry, megatron, dinosaur-elephant. Of course I had cut off the one guy in Los Angeles that had gone the (literal) extra mile to install a horn fit for a semi-truck.

My brain rushed to coo myself into reaffirmation to not take it personally, and I continued to drive, trying to ignore how closely this insecure person was tailing me. I hit myself for letting him get to me every time I looked in the rearview mirror. Luckily, I was only three minutes away from home, and soon to be done with this nightmare.

As soon as I turned on my right blinker, so did my new sworn enemy, great. When the crosswalk cleared, he swiftly moved into the lane directly adjacent to mine. And there was that 10-foot horn, blasting it’s indignant road rage for all to hear, especially me.

Before I knew it, my hand was up, all fingers down except for one. That same hand quickly moved to cover my gapping mouth, shocked at this out of character reaction of mine. When did I become such road scum? The girl that once preserved her temper for long runs to the beach, was now playing the devil's game. Afraid and ashamed, I slowed down to let that catalyst of a driver pass me.

Finally, I reached home, and scurried up the stairs to tell my roommate, Erica, who is also my best friend, about the terrors I had just endured. I shook with shock and anger, recounting in vivid detail the deafening sound I was sure to hear in my nightmares. Erica shook with amusement as she tried to keep a straight face. Irritated, I told her it wasn’t funny. Soon, I couldn’t keep a straight face either, and we were both found in a giggled frenzy.

I guess if I had installed a horn loud enough to make the deaf hear again, I would use it any chance I could, too.

humor
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About the Creator

dk

Yes, I want to know your sign.

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