After a refreshing day off of laundry, squats, dental cleaning, and filling the car with gas, my last stop was a detour to the strip mall for thirty pounds of cat litter and the ingredients for Caprese. (Last tomatoes of the summer). All the errantry put me in the middle of early rush hour traffic, meaning that shifting into the slip lane for the mall was a fraught contest of wills with typical me-first-now-and-always DC people frantic lest they… well, I don’t know what makes them so frantic. I gave up one opportunity after someone who had to have seen me indicating simply floored his accelerator, and dodged in just ahead of the car after that, which streaked past me to come to a full halt at a light which had been red ever since we all got in range.

I got a good look at the magnet sign on the passenger door, which read in big looping pink letters on white: “TRANQUILLITY through Meditation.”

Someone must not have gotten the e-mail. Or, maybe, wife’s car.


7 thoughts on “Signage

  1. I’m so very grateful not to have US levels of traffic anymore. However… some man told my husband that he needs to ‘tell your wife to slow down.’ His response was ‘tell her yourself if you think it’s that important. I don’t tell her what to do.’
    I would have told him to shove his slow-ass Micra up his hole. Meditate? Sure I do: on ways to get away with the murder of sexist assholes who think husbands control their wives and that women can’t drive safely at speed.

      • I played dodgem in traffic a lot, on the highway. I also was one of those jerks who didn’t merge until nearly the last minute. I wasn’t going to cut anyone off, but I sure would get close to the end and hope.
        I’d make them wash out tampons. Doesn’t matter we can’t reuse them.

  2. Observations of these sorts of drivers always make me wonder if I a) live in a particularly tranquil metropolis or b) live in a particularly disconnected fantasy world. I see aggressive driving now and then, and indulge in some myself when I need the relaxation, but by and large we let people in around here, offer rights of way, and wave. It might be a DC thing. Some cities attract a certain type, and others attract another. As the capital of California, we have our share of ambitious knuckleheads, but the worst of them spend as much time as they can in LA where they belong, and the kinds of people who would live in NY just don’t come here.

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