...and here's what you shouldn't do

So…the new year is almost three weeks old and my pledge to try to be a better person, or to at least treat people with a little more consideration is going about as poorly as most of my other failed resolutions (see last post). Because I usually receive abysmally low marks on follow-through with goals of this nature, I can’t be too surprised things aren’t going particularly well. Sure…I’m trying to do it in some small ways…things like unloading the dishwasher without being asked, smiling more, composing better-toned emails, saying please and thank you more and even remembering to walk on street-side of the sidewalk (at least some of the time). So, while my resolution performance has been characteristically unimpressive at best, I did have a particularly un-resolution-like setback last week that bears mentioning. If nothing else, it might serve as yet another good blueprint of something you shouldn’t do.

After a relaxing morning that including a fast-paced (at least by my assisted living standards) 4am 3-mile run, some trash TV reruns and a light breakfast, I left the house and hopped in my car for the short commute to work. As I headed up the narrow street in my urban residential neighborhood, there was a taxi parked in the middle of the street of the next block up which appeared to be waiting for a traveler. The cab was not parked as far to the right as it could have been, and it was questionable at best if I could navigate to the left and make it between the taxi’s driver’s side and the cars parked on the left without significant damage to the cab, my car, and the vehicles parked to my left.

Seeing the inconsiderate taxi in the middle of the street caused the flame on my blood burners to go up a notch....however, I tried to relax by listening to the Pimsleur Italian language CDs and waiting for the cab’s passenger to come out of the house to begin their leisurely cab ride so I might be able to continue my commute to work without scrapping paint off both sides of my automobile.  I waited about 30 seconds (maybe 15) and then decided to inch up to the rear of the taxi in hopes of conveying the urgency for him/her to stop blocking the street. Shortly after working my way just up to the taxi’s rear bumper, the cab driver flipped on his hazard lights. As far as I could discern there was no flat tire, steaming radiator, or any other “hazard” that should require the activation of those lights, so it was hard to interpret the move as anything other than a luminous way of him or her telling me to go fornicate myself.   

Now…at this point I had a couple of more cerebral options. I could just chalk the moron up to a world of wasted-flesh idiots and let it go. I could have put my car in reverse and backed up about 100 feet and then proceeded west toward Reno Road and taken a detour to work. I could have even got out of my car, remembered my Emily Post training,  gently tapped on the driver’s window and politely asked him/her to inch over slightly to the right so that I (and the rest of his/her fellow man commuting on that street) could get around. But comminted to few things with the fervor as I am to proving I’m a painfully slow learner, I chose none of those courses.

Instead, cognizant of my previously simmering blood now transfering to a slow boil, I backed up car, and proceeded to navigate around the left side of the cab. It was tight, and there couldn’t have been room for a gum wrapper on either side of the car as I squeezed by. As I did, the cab made no discernable attempt to move over. Once by the cab, I pulled ahead of the cab, blocking about the same amount of the street as the taxi. Then, I backed up a bit until I was immediately in front of the cab and put my vehicle in park (leaving the engine running).

Shortly after doing so, the cab’s passenger came out of the house and jumped into the waiting taxi. Not long after the passenger’s door closed, the cab driver lightly tapped on the horn apparently informing me he (I know knew it was a male) needed to move forward.  So, thinking like an inconsiderate moronic taxi driver…I flipped on my hazard lights in an attempt to let him know that he too was more than welcome to find another way to continue his journey.

Now, despite all the evidence to the contrary, I’m not an hot-headed idiot looking for a unnecessary fight that could easily be avoided by a couple of deep breaths and some basic perspective. I wasn’t about to get into a pre-dawn, pre-work altercation with some jackass without reasonable assurances that I might prevail. Though my back window was fogged over, I watched closely out my driver’s side mirror ready to assess the cab driver’s size and perceived fighting ability. If some 6’6”, weight-trained, 240 pound, chiseled golden-glove like young man emerged, I was prepared to be content that I’d made my point and quickly put the car in drive to continue on my merry way (run). However while the man that exited the driver’s side in anger was more like 250lbs, he was also closer like 5’8 and maybe even  balding a bit so I liked my chances. At first glance I saw no sign of a weapon, so being the deep-thinker that I am, I too flung open my car door and jumped out of the car.

By this point the cab driver  and I were nearly face-to-face, and he was screaming in some barely intelligible high-pitched foreign accent. He asked “What are you doing…are you trying to start something?”  “Why do you ask I responded?” The cab driver then shouted that he was simply “waiting for a passenger.”  “Yeah…I’m waiting to pick up someone for work”…I retorted…  “feel free to go around.” He then informed me I was “blocking the street,” to which I replied “yes…I may be…but I flipped on my hazard lights to let you know that your problems didn’t matter to me.” He continued to scream as he walked back to the car, calling me “crazy.” I followed him over to his car door and ask him what the problem was…and then inquired…”what’s wrong… you seem pissed.” “I am” he shouted… “you’re an as$hole.” “Good” I said… “now you know exactly how I feel.” He said some more words...and I responded in a fashion which made it clear he shouldn't get into a cussing match with a product of  the Los Angeles inner-city and the son of a WWII U.S. Navy electrician.

What was accomplished by this? Not a damn thing if I had to guess. I’d like to think the shithe*t cab driver will give a little thought to his actions the next time he double parks, but I’m thinking that’s probably not likely. It would be good to believe the bigger sh*thead would learn a lesson too and just avoid unnecessary altercations going forward, but I’m not liking my chances.  It  was probably a total waste of my energy and just regrettable behavior,  then again, I needed some Friday blog material so risking my life (he could have had a gun…or worse...have been a wrestler) for a relatively uninteresting story wasn’t completely insane.

It’s inauguration weekend so try to have some fun.  If you get Monday’s MLK day off, use the extra time and spend it with the people and pets you love doing the things that matter most. You may want to start the three-day break with a little good music. If you have a chance to chill this weekend, kick back, put on some good tunes, and reach for the high shelf booze.