Maybe it was because I noticed while sitting on my bed, putting on my socks and shoes, that I had a conference call with my client in exactly one hour. Hum. It takes a solid twenty-five minutes on a weekday morning to get to work, but the radio said traffic was especially bad today. Twenty-five minutes to work, a ten minute walk from the parking garage to the building when you take into account the slow elevators . . . I would get there by 8:40 at the latest, twenty minutes before the call, but the possibility of any numerous potential delays would most definitely make me late. And by late, I mean at work in not enough time to get a cup of coffee prior to the meeting.
You see, ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing worse than a first-am meeting, except for a first-am meeting without coffee. That is truly criminal.
So of course Fullerton Avenue traffic was backed up. I struggle with driving in traffic. I get frustrated and mad at the drivers who cut people off out of some sort of feeling of entitlement. Then I was in a car accident over the summer and had whiplash for several days. And it hurt. Even though the accident wasn’t my fault, I decided it was better to allow more space and make the choice to not be annoyed by selfish drivers. A kinder, “turn the other cheek” version of me as a driver.
Well, except today.
It was the threat of no coffee before an hour long meeting that made me impatient. And really, it was only the entrance ramp from Fullerton to the expressway that was troublesome. Sometimes two lanes form, and the cars merge towards the top of the ramp. Other times, there is only one lane and it moves faster. Today was a case of the latter, except when two cars squeaked by me and the van in front of me. They were so close and unexpected that I jumped. The car next to me was a Lexus SUV, which is ridiculous to drive in the city of Chicago. (Unless you drive a Lexus SUV in the city, in which case I think it’s pretty.) We inched up the ramp and it became obvious that one of us was going to have to give in and let the other go first. I reminded myself about how I am I trying to be a nicer driver. BUT THEN . . .
The Lexus SUV revved his engine at me. I am making this up. Revved his engine, to the point where his car bounced towards me like a hungry, hungry hippo. As if that is going to inspire me to let him cut in front of me. So, of course I did not. How could I after that? I am not intimidated by your ridiculous shiny new SUV. Instead, you should be intimidated by my eleven-year-old slightly dinged Sliver Bullet. I mean, I gots nothing to lose.
Whatever.
So I made it to work, only to find the coffee machine broken. Thankfully I was left with enough time to run downstairs to Starbucks before the meeting began. And I think it’s all because I didn’t let Mr. Lexus SUV in.