What I'm really feeling five days a week, is that I totally might kill someone. Not in my normal I always kind of want to kill someone way, but in I actually physically might kill someone. The reason for this is that I've recently moved to a store out west, and driving through the northwest side is pretty much enough to make an sane person crazy, and I've never professed myself to be said sane person. First this street I drive down seems to me to be the only street in the city with a posted speed limit. It's not that I'm inherently against speed limits, but I'm inherently against speed limits that only exist to make me crazier than I already am. I mean solely that when you go the posted speed limit you are guarantied to hit every red light no matter what time of day.
My problem is that 95% of the people on said street seem determined to go the speed limit or below, and block anyone from moving around them. I've come to the determination that they do this because they must be afraid of getting deported back to their country of origin.
Now this might sound a bit racist, but I assure you that the people I'm speaking of are likely from eastern Europe,and not south of the border as you might have suspected.
As I try to move around set vehicles I find my problem compounded by the guy selling roses at all hours of the day by the highway. Not really sure how this is a wise way to spend ones time, because who really buys roses from some guy selling them in the street, but he must make some sort of living this way because he is there every freaking day. Also there is about 5 regular homeless people with their plastic cups begging for change at one of the 900 street lights I'm forced to stop at on my trek to work. One of which I almost ran over in frustration to get around a line of aforementioned slow future deportees.
Then there is the endless construction signs when mention lane closures where there are none, no signs where there is, and then just random portions of the pavement missing is large blocks for no reason. All of which make for a very stressful drive to and from work. Forcing me to grid the hell out of my teeth.
The bigger problem is I'm not entirely sure the brakes in the front half of my car work. A fact which I've yet to mention to my dad for fear that he might actually murder me for driving with them, and for asking him to fix them (I kid my parents are both awesome). This however means that when I try really hard to move around stupid ass people I'm not entirely sure my car will stop at will. Maybe it will stop at it's own will, but not mine, and lets none even bring up the idea of stopping on a dime.
Bottom line is the drive too and from work has become nothing less then an adventure, one I'm not in love with, and really want no part of. So if I'm calling you at all hours of the night looking for bail money for having run someone over, worry not, just call some folks and get the money together.
