On our way to the Mecca of Consumerism that is Orlando, we hit an area of bogged-down traffic. We were approaching an overpass, and here, the traffic just stopped cold. We had passed a sign a few miles back that informed us that the right hand lane would need to merge left, so I stayed in the leftmost lane, hoping that we'd breeze right on through. Silly me. I should have known better. Every trip down I-95 is characterized by a construction boondoggle of some sort or another.
We reach the place where the right lane is supposed to merge into the middle of the three lanes, but the flow of traffic just stops deader than the proverbial doornail. The right hand lane is still continuing to creep along (thanks to a well-placed off ramp), but the other two lanes -- the ones that SHOULD be flowing well -- are not. At all. Which is vexing to say the least. Finally, enough traffic simply throws its hands up in the air and heads off in the direction of the off-ramp, and we manage to move forward enough to see daylight through all of the cars and trucks. At this point, we see a police officer, waving laconically at the traffic.
I stick my head out the window, and he says: "Folks, if you stay in this lane, it could be 45 minutes to an hour before you're free." We ask if it's okay if we run over the grass a bit to get to the off-ramp, since we are now slightly past it. He gives us a shrug, and off we go, jouncing through the weeds. As we pull up to the end of the off-ramp, we noticed what's caused the delay up on the overpass -- a multi-car pileup, involving at least seven vehicles, and one of those a semi. Apparently, someone in the right hand lane neglected to heed the "merge left" signs some ways back, and when crunch time came, well... CRUNCH was what happened, all right.
As we pull off the ramp, we see that we can head down to the next traffic light a short distance away, hang a u-turn, and be right back on the interstate in no time. I am the last driver in the long line of cars making the u-turn, and as I crest the signals, this jackass in a gold SUV in the lane to my right decides he's going to jump into my lane with me. He comes right on over, narrowly missing my car. Had he struck us, he would have hit the right hand passenger side, right where Offspring was sitting. I honked madly, letting him know that I was NOT happy with his (lack of) driving skills. He honks back, as if to say *I* was the one in error! The absolute effrontery!
As we rocket up the on-ramp, Gold SUV Asshat decides that almost clipping my car isn't enough of a driving faux-pas. Obviously, this person needs his own laminated copy of the Ten Commandments of Driving. So, he speeds up, and damn near runs me off the road in his hasty attempt to make it in front of me, and back to I-95 before we can. JF, not one to sit by calmly in the face of such disrespect, is practically hanging off of the car like a monkey, and yelling comments out the window. When multiple fingers come out of Gold SUV's windows, JF is up like a flash, whisking down his shorts, and mooning the occupants of the other car, flipping them off all the while.
We're going about 80 down I-95. We've just passed an horrific accident site, and my husband is trying to mush his ass against the windshield of our car in order to torment the asshats in front of us. Vacation is off to a rip-snorting start. Aren't we a classy bunch?
Reading Amy's post today reminded me of this incident (maybe I was trying to block it all out?) and so informs me that had JF been caught, he could have been sentenced as a sex offender under Megan's Law. Now, I'm all in favor for laws that protect children from vicious predators, but you can now be labeled a sex offender for streaking? Public urination? Skinny-dipping? Most people I know would be in jail now! Including both of my parents! Not that that is all that much of a revelation, come to think of it....
Cat Doesn't Understand
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