Thursday, March 25, 2010

Take Foot, Insert into Mouth...

I mentioned yesterday that I am attending a workshop for work (I'm on my lunch break people, no need to report me) and I am really enjoying it despite being sick as a dog.

It started on Tuesday. It's in the big city environment of Raleigh, and to get to the building, you have to go down a very busy four lane road with a median. It has small cut-throughs for the roads that branch off with office buildings, and people tend to drive very fast on the main road that goes through the center. The cut throughs only hold at most 1 1/2 cars, which tends to block up the lane behind if some is having trouble *cough*, "pulling the gun" and turning left across the two lanes of oncoming traffic. (I would draw a map, but it would probably just be even more confusing.)

On Tuesday I was behind one such car, with a sweet young lady driver who waited. And waited. And WAITED at the cut through for what seemed like hours to turn left. It was probably in reality about 96 seconds, but it felt like an eternity as I could see the cars piling up behind me. I pulled forward, kind of parallel to her to try to get my rear end out of the lane and let people pass, and as I did that I got a clearer view of the oncoming traffic. Or lack thereof. Seriously, I could have ridden a CAMEL through that turn with all the time she was waiting with no traffic in sight. Or led a gaggle of geese across.

So what did I do? I pulled this nifty move that I learned in Boston about 6 years ago when someone did it to me at a MUCH busier intersection. I pulled out and around her and went about my merry way. I think she got the picture then that she had enough time to get across the oncoming lanes, so she turned to. The closer I got to my building, the more the sinking feeling in the pit of stomach mounted.

There are like thousands of people who work in this complex of offices, so what are the chances that she is one of the 10 other people attending this workshop? You got it. I had to pull into the parking lot, park a mile away from the building, and wait until I saw her walk in before I would get out of my car. I did not want an awkward "you're that bitch that cut me off" encounter my first day of the workshop.

Crisis averted, but let's just say that I have been a much more conservative driver the rest of the week.

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