The Road Rage Incident.

It was a hot afternoon and the highway was crowded. I was just driving home my normal route, eating a taco bell burrito,drinking a water that had been sitting in the hot car all day and listening to the radio, when suddenly my mundane drive got a little extra flava.

I was on the interstate getting ready to merge onto my exit when I noticed a little red car speeding up to pass me on the right. The car cut me off from being able to exit in the prescribed lines and as it passed me I happened to be taking a bite of the taco. Apparently my eating was an offence to the driver who promptly flipped me off. Flipped me off!!

That should have been the end of it, but of course you know it was not. The driver then positioned himself directly in front of me and slammed on the brakes, and again gave me the one finger salute.

I responded by taking another bite of the taco. This must have infuriated the other driver who then reached out his sunroof and again gestured his displeasure. I decided to change lanes and the aspiring hand model then followed suit and again with the bird, out the drivers window.

At this point, I was out of taco so I decided to take my cell phone in hand and prepare to call the guy in for road rage like behavior.

He then pulled over in front of me and stopped. I stopped my car on the side of the road and the guy jumps out of his car, yelling profanities and this is when I noticed he was about 6 foot tall, 200 pounds tattooed from head to toe with a construction mohawk. I could just feel a cultural exchange coming on.

I rolled down the window as he approached yelling. It was not what I expected, as he declared he was on the phone with the cops. I politely and calmly stated that I was in complete agreement, and that he should call in the officers and let them referee.
O.K. Maybe not politely. "Go ahead Jackhole, get them over here, you cut me off, slammed on your brakes and are flipping gang signs at me!"
At this point he told 911 that it was cool, and he hung up. Then he yelled at me about raising my hand as He passed  and cut me off on the right. I held up the Taco Bell bag, and Said, "I WAS EATING A TACO!!! "

At this point his demeanor changed, and he said, "Oh, sorry man." and held out his hand in to shake and relieve the tensions. We shook and he got in his car and raced off.

As I thought about it, I realized a few things. One, I am not as young as I once was, and it may be harder to defend myself than it used to be. So I need to make sure I am armed with more than a hardshell taco when mixing it up with the local talent. Maybe a hot coffee from Mcdonalds or a mashed potato and gravy bowl from KFC.

I also realized that maybe I should change up my snacks. I bet if I had been eating a carrot stick, the guy would never have gotten pissed off at me. On the other hand if I had been eating a celery stick he may have thought I was flipping him off.

From now on I will be more cautious, but if you know I am in a bad mood and you see me getting a 12 pack of taco's at the drive up, steer clear of me. I may be forced to drip lettuce and cheese and taco shell all over you.

Dude, You're Sick!

Have you noticed how some terms suddenly do not mean what you once thought they did? Take the word 'sick' for instance. To a lot of us it means being less than well, to others it means totally insanely crazy cool. To me, at this moment it is more like bronchitis on a stick. I had been sniffling and all that for about a week and it started to subside, but a little over a week ago, it came back with a vengeance. I regressed quickly and went from stuffy nose to insufferable jerk in about a day. I know, there are those who may argue that it was a slippery slope or a fine line for me to reach that point anyway. I would refute that point. That is, if I still had a voice.

Two days ago, to the delight of my family and neighbors, I lost my voice. My 3 year old especially loved it because for the first time in months, he was able to get a word in edgewise during a conversation. Fortunately my job is one that I can type messages to people so it has not really affected my ability to work.
One thing that is affected however is story telling at bed time. My son came up to me the other night asking me to read him a Bible story. I hesitated but then got a great idea. I started to open the book and told Josh that if he was not a good boy, God would make it so I could not talk. He looked puzzled like he was thinking very hard about this. Then he got an evil grin and he smacked his little brother on the head and said "OK God. Smite daddy!"

It does not take much effort these days to get sick and with the economy the way it is, many folks will go to work even if they are not well, simply because they cannot afford to stay home. I am one of those people. Last Wednesday, I made the mistake of coughing out loud at work. It was like an alarm went off and one of my co-workers piped up and told the team lead, "Mark is sick, can you send his dumb a** home please?" To which the lead replied, "Oh you betcha" and I was on the next elevator to the ground floor.

I worked from home and stayed in bed, hacking and wheezing most of the Memorial Day weekend. Despite all rest I was not improving so I decided to see a doctor. As it turns out there is no doctor to be had on a holiday weekend so I had to go to one of the county health clinics. This is never a good thing, especially in my area. For one reason, I live in what is arguably an impoverished area, lots of immigrants and seasonal workers with no money or insurance. When I arrived at the clinic, I could see a long wait ahead of me.

Fortunately I had a strategy to help shorten the wait. I call it the "Moon Pie Maneuver." I went to the bathroom and took a moon pie out of my pocket, and ate it. I then walked back into the waiting area and started coughing. I asked for a tissue then in plain view of the receptionist I coughed our a nice wad of phlegm and chocolate. I looked shocked and said "whoa, THAT can't be good!"
Let me tell you something, I suddenly was in an examination room. You would have thought I was a celebrity or something. In walked an aging doctor who looked a lot like Dick Van Dyke wearing a large bow tie. Apparently my impression was not that far off because he took the Mary Poppins approach to medicine. He sang a little song about how a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, then he did a heel toe, right shuffle, ball, heel, toe, toe; ball change right back out of the room.
Soon an assistant came in with a prescription for an inhaler and showed me the door. I was out in the parking lot before it hit me that I had not actually been examined, and I was out of moon pies so I just went home.

I am using the inhaler, but not in the way it was intended. It turns out that stuff is pretty flammable, so If I take a puff then exhale over a candle, I can trim my mustache and eyebrows all at the same time. To which my kid says, "Daddy, that is so SICK!"

Till next time....