Rants and Ramblings: random commentary about culture, media, politics, technology and whatnot.

i love the smell of road rage in the morning

I got a taste of local road rage on my way into work today.

I usually take northbound George Washington Parkway for part of my morning commute. The drive takes me right along the Potomac River. Between the parkway and the river is the Mount Vernon Trail, a popular pedestrian / bike trail that runs from Roosevelt Island all the way to Mount Vernon. Just past Memorial Bridge, there is a marked crosswalk (with a bright yellow sign calling attention to it), where part of a side trail crosses GW Parkway. Most days, commuter traffic tends to blow right past the crosswalk, despite the fact that (at least according to my understanding of Virginia motor vehicle law (PDF file; see pgs. 35 and 44)) pedestrians have the right of way.

This morning, I felt bad for a jogger who was waiting patiently for an opening to cross, and I slowed to a stop to allow him to pass. This infuriated the driver behind me, who immediately began honking her car horn. The jogger and I exchanged a rueful look, and he quickly crossed the road.

As I accelerated back to normal driving speed, the woman behind me began flickering her headlights furiously. I rolled my eyes at her irritation, and the fact that her car was a black Mercedes SUV — a make / model / color of car that I’ve permenantly associated with another person I intensely dislike — only made it easier for me to dismiss her anger.

I began to get a little nervous, however, when she changed lanes and pulled up alongside me rather than speeding past. Not wishing to provoke her, I kept my eyes on the road ahead.

I think that effort only irritated her further, however, and she honked her horn to get my attention. I glanced over, and the woman — thirtyish, well-dressed, white, dark-haired … and angry — was looking directly at me, gesturing wildly and shouting. (With both our windows up, I haven’t a clue what she was saying. I think I got the idea, though.)

I was in no mood to deal with an escalated road rage incident, particularly since my cold-and-sinus meds hadn’t kicked in yet and I had a monster headache already. Hoping that this wouldn’t turn into one of those tragic scenes you hear about on the news — the paranoid in me worried a bit that she’d snap and try to run my little Saturn off the road — I turned back to the road ahead, trying as hard as I could not to roll my eyes at her as I did so.

She continued driving alongside me for another few moments, then, having presumably given up, sped ahead.

I breathed a small sigh of relief.

As my tension eased, I began to feel a bit of outrage about the whole scene, and any number of smartass retorts and angry asides that I could have made (which only would have made the situation worse) came to mind. Trying to put the scene out of my mind, I stuck out my tongue in the woman’s direction (she now was far ahead, almost out of sight) and turned off the parkway for the next leg of my commute.