The Douchebags That You Meet When You're Driving Down The Street

My commute is not an especially long one (30-40 minutes on average, including a Dunks stop) but it is an especially varied one as I have mentioned before. I drive over the Neponset Bridge, all the way down Morrisey Boulevard, around the beastly Columbia Rotary, onto the Southeastern Expressway, and then onto the Mass Pike. For those non locals? This is not a walk in the park. It is quite often a drive through hell (Read this old post where I relate my commute to various treacherous diseases). However as the old adage goes, familiarity breeds okayness with being in hell. So I don't mind my commute usually. Sure I might get angry from time to time. And I never said I didn't suffer ever so slightly from a touch of the old road rage.

But if you had to deal with the people I had to deal with? You would be surprised at how low my blood pressure is.

Let's start on the Bridge, where the bad part of my commute often begins. Usually thanks to people like this.



This woman, with a car seat filled with a baby in the backseat might I add, swung into my lane (the left lane) without a blinker, missing my front bumper by about 2 inches. And then as we slowed to inch across the bridge, she took this opportunity to READ THE PAPER, spreading it out on her steering wheel. Now, while the bridge is trafficy on this particular morning we weren't at a dead stop so there really wasn't time to take in a little Style section between lights. As such, I had to beep at her SEVERAL times to remind her for the love of god to put the paper down and to move up. She became quite exasperated with me and began gesturing in her rear view at which point I took out my phone and snapped this photo. I hope she saw me taking it.

Moving on.



This was another person driving in the left lane who most certainly should not have been. If you are trying to maneuver a cigarette, a coffee and your cell phone? Now is not the time to try and keep up with people who have places to be and would like to get there sooner rather than later. I was stuck behind him (going THIRTY MILES PER HOUR) in the left lane on Morrissey for almost the entire length of it before I had a chance to safely pass him. Then at the light I figured what the hell, let's add him to the douchebag album.

Last but not least, this dude.



This person, for reasons I do not know, would not pick a lane. He drifted back and forth between the left and middle lane repeatedly for no reason I could fathom. And again, going about 40 MPH in the fast lane. I'm not necessarily a speed racer (Hello, I drive a Civic Coupe, I top out at like 70), but I will never ever understand people who use the passing lane just to hang out and drift around and be infuriating. WHY!!

So there it is, a small glimpse into my commuting life. And why my commute depends so much on who I end up stuck behind. Sigh.

Wow I feel much better after doing this. A picture is not only worth a thousand words, it's worth a thousand finger gestures.