That's a Good Way to Get Shot...
Wednesday Mar 19, 2014
Sheba said, as we pulled up to the light behind that smaller car. It wasn't a random musing on her part. No, it wasn't. It was probably good advice. Since many people have ended up with bullet holes by doing the very thing I was suggesting. You see, right before we pulled up to the recently turned red light behind previously stated smaller car, I had said, "Perhaps I should get out of our car, walk up to that smaller car's window, and ask what the rush is..."
But as you may have guessed, that is not the beginning of this story. It's more the middle. Let me start at the beginning.
When Sheba and I have a night together, one where I am not working my normal 11a-11p shift at the ER, we go together to a local gym and do one of the multitude of classes they have. Sometimes it is step aerobics, sometimes it is Hatha Yoga, sometimes kickboxing, and more often than the others, a spinning class. You know the ones, where you are following the "lead" of a cycling instructor; where miles and miles are ridden on "bicycles" that don't actually go anywhere, and they motivate you to turn a knob that increases or decreases the agony inflicted on your legs.
Tonight, it was actually kickboxing. We were mostly through the class, on what I thought to be the downhill run toward the finish... but no. Our regular instructor stated, "I have a wonderful surprise for you." A muscular young man stepped up from the back, and let us in on the news. He quipped, "We're starting a new program here, and it's called "Insanity." Don't worry, it won't be too hard, and there are modifications to the exercises if you feel you can't do it the way I am demonstrating."
He changed the music from something suitable for aerobics and/or kickboxing... to what Sheba referred to as, "Bunny-Killing Music." As the initial notes crashed into the room, Sheba looked over and said, "Well... pass me a bunny." I would have chortled, but unfortunately, I was doing my best to emulate the instructor. On him, it was a graceful muscular stationary run with routine side to side hurdling. On me... well, I could see myself in the mirror, and I compared myself reasonably to a fleeing yak with epilepsy.
But that really isn't the "how we got to the stoplight" either. I am sure we can regale you with tales of my current athletic ineptitude and how much I resemble the "dork at the back of the step aerobics class..." But that's not really what you want to hear about. I'm sure you want me to get back to the near shooting incident. So let's.
I would have to say that the preceding hour or so, had little to nothing to do with the occurrence. As a matter of fact, I was feeling quite calm - emotionally and mentally. Physically? Well - if you recognized the sounds of your joints, ligaments and tendons making the same sound as your rice crispies? You are probably over 40, and you know what I mean. Under 40? Give it time.
So, back to the story. After the torture - I mean the "Insanity trial" we went to dinner... After all, we frequently do our best to get some protein after a workout. One of our favs is Sushi. We have a place that is right on the way home, and it has these great spicy shrimp and crab things... yumm! We sat and talked, allowing our "warm" muscles to relax, and go back into the position mother nature intended. When we could move without cramping - and after they flipped all the chairs on the other tables, and all 5 restaurant employees were leaning on the wall glaring at us... we decided it was best time to head home...
We pulled out of the sushi place and were about a half mile down the road, when we noticed a pair of headlights getting larger in the rearview. Another moment and the sound of a rapidly decelerating engine with a loud muffler was heard, and those headlights had all but disappeared under the shadow of our trunk lid. I looked down at the speedo, and yup... we were about 5mph over the limit. This person seemed in a bit of a rush.
The headlights moved from one side of the lane to the other. First our driver's mirror, then the passenger mirror, and back. I briefly considered a mild "brake check." But Sheba saw the look in my eyes, and they way I was looking in the mirror... and said, "Don't you dare. Not with my car." I went to my next option, if I had the opportunity, I would pull to the side to let them pass. Surely there must be some incredible urgency to be this close.
As we rounded the next bend, I saw my chance. The road had widened and had a broken yellow center line. I pulled to the right, and slowed. The car behind took the hint, and with a scream of exhaust, shot past us. It was an a late model scion, a TC I think.. with a racing stripe, dark tinted windows, mag wheels, a racing exhaust - and local plates. I took that in as the smaller car flew forward and its brake lights flared as it came within 10 feet of the next car. As it hovered in that position, the side to side motion was repeated... and then there was the stoplight, just turning red. As I slowed to a stop, I said, "Perhaps I should get out of our car, walk up to that smaller car's window, and ask what the rush is..."
We sat quietly for a moment, at the light. Sheba muttering how I looked fine with the holes I had... and me considering the type of car, how many people in it, the stickers, the muffler, all the data I had... and came up with a simple truth. I had no idea who was in the car or what their reason could be for the hurry.
I turned to Sheba and said, "I know what it is... this road leads to the hospital. It's probably a young couple... She's pregnant, and about to pop. He's in a huge rush, as he is afraid her water is going to break... and he loves her and the car... but doesn't want to have to get the car detailed. He knows there is like NO WAY to get all the amniotic fluid and baby goo out of his ride, if she spews. That must be the hurry."
Sheba grinned, and said... "Nope. That wouldn't be it. He's probably too young to know what's gonna happen if she is pregnant. So, it's probably not that. Here's what I think. See that car? He probably spends all his time on the car. And look at those stickers... He's into street racing or some such. He is probably such a car geek that he has never been laid. I bet he's a senior in High School, and finally got a girlfriend. They were talking on the phone, and she said, "My parents went out to dinner. If you get here fast, we can finally solve that virginity problem of yours..." And here we are... standing in the way of his first sexual experience."
I grinned... and said, "Well... if someone stopped me from getting laid the first time, I'd probably shoot 'em too. It's good that I didn't waste any more of his limited time to ask. He might have even thought I was a friend of the parents. Woohoo, then he would really have it out for me cock-blocking him!"
In the end, we have no idea what the circumstances of anyone else's life might be. It could be something terrific; it could be something horrific; it could be plain stupidity - there is no way to know. What we can do is not take it personally. So the next time something occurs, take a step back and relax. If you don't have a part in it? Don't own it, don't add to it ... and try not to react too much to it. That way, you can take a few minutes and write about it. Instead of trying to explain to the hospital ER why you have a couple more holes than mother nature gave ya.
Take care of yourself,
Barak & Sheba
©2014 Barak & Brat Sheba