My sister said the most curious thing to me the other day. “You have a lot of anger,” she said. I furrowed my brow as I pondered this statement. Sure, I’ve been complaining a little lately, but so what? Honestly, living in this city; I ask you, how can I not be angry? Case in point – this morning I was almost hit by a taxi… again. Now friends, let me just say that I am a very careful crosser. I look both ways before stepping into the crosswalk, heck; I even wait to make sure that the big red hand is no longer warning me to stay put. Yes, I am a very cautious crosser.
Now, I know that taxis seem like a real convenience in the movies when all the big actors do that cool whistle thing and five of them (taxis I mean) automatically line up to be of service. Alright, so there might be a twinge of jealously there. I can’t whistle to save my life. When I try, I look like a toddler spitting up on myself – okay, I’m not actually that bad (clears throat).
Sorry, back to the story; we were talking about taxis. Here’s the thing about taxis - their drivers are insane! Sure, they have the right-of-way when making a right turn, but so do I gosh darn it. They don’t stop to think for a second that there might actually be pedestrians trying to do their pedestrian thing by crossing the damn street! Oh no, they make a sharp right turn and nearly plow right into you (and by you, I mean me). Now, I’ve done everything I can think of to show my displeasure at almost being hit. I’ve let out a sting of expletives so long and so fast that even I got lost in what I was saying. I’ve flipped the bird (always a winner). I’ve given one heck of an evil stare. I’ve even stood there with an incredulous look on my face, just to have the a-hole honk his horn at me, which of course only made other pedestrians look at me like the crazy girl standing in the middle of the street holding up traffic. So, I ask again: How the crap can I not be angry? Can I get an amen?
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