A Few Words to the Visor Lady
It's been little while since I've wanted to wax poetic about anything. But today I looked in my rear view mirror and got such a look from hell, I had to post. What happened was, I was in the car with my sister, going to meet my parents for lunch. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warmer than usual for this time of year in Chicago. I was stopped at a red light, and I was in a pretty good mood, admiring the sunlight and clean, clear road conditions. I guess the light must have turned green without me noticing right away, because all of a sudden I hear the car horn blaring behind me. I then glanced in my rear view mirror, and saw this woman, probably in her late 40's, glaring at me with an intense hatred in her eyes, a white visor on her head and her mouth wide open. Of course I couldn't hear her voice, but by looking at her lips I could tell it something along the lines of "COME ON!!! MOVE ALREADY!!" I couldn't hear the sound, but I knew she was screaming. I was taken aback, especially since I had started to move forward already and I couldn't have delayed her precious morning by more than a second or two. Where does all this rage come from, I wonder? I mean, I can sort of understand her being upset if I had cut her off in a dangerous way or slammed on my brakes for no reason. But taking an extra second to accelerate at a green light? Is that really so terrible?
Luckily, I am not the type of person who takes these things to heart. I shook my head, shook off her bad energy, and got right back to enjoying the day. But I do hope she was able to do the same. Merry Christmas, Visor Lady. I do wish you peace.
posted by watersoul @ 3:34 PM
4 Comments:
I know the Visor Lady. Sometimes it's the Visor Man.
Sometimes it's me.
I can't agree more -- peace is the answer. What a great wife you are! Thanks for always being there, shining a gentle light on the dark spots of my personality. I'll think of your words of peace to Visor Lady the next time the person driving the car in front of me moves a little slower than I think they should.
You could always do what our late grandfather once did:
1.) Put car the car in park.
2.) Open your door and slowly get out.
3.) Calmly walk back to her and greet her as though she was a long lost friend. Exclaim something like, "Do I know you" She will then get more irritated and say, "I just wanted you to go". Then apologize, saying that you thought she wanted to say hello by blowing the horn.
4.) Walk slowly back to the car, pacing yourself until the light once again turns red.
WAIT, don't do that you live in Chicago and I'm not too sure how safe that would be.....
However, if you happened to be wearing a bulletproof vest, you could have always offered her a free facial to help her relax.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!
Wish I could have been there when Grandpa did that!
A free facial- hahaha! What a great idea.
Yeah, I'm more a fan of the mini-honk. Listen, no matter how much instant rage we feel when someone sits there at a green light, there isn't a single person driving today that hasn't done exactly the same thing.
Isn't it amazing how our first reaction is anger? This happened once while I was driving with my daughter, she's four. I gave the little mini-honk to alert the car in front of me that the light had changed. No movement. I gave a slightly less "mini" honk and was started to get irritated.
Then Rebecca said, "Daddy, is he okay?"
Is he okay? Never crossed my mind that this person who has the GAUL to postpone whatever self-imposed deadline I was hurtling towards might NOT be okay. Maybe they are sitting there in pain, passed out from a diabetic coma, having a seizure, or any other number of ailments that would make my far-less-than-a-full-minute delay seem shockingly trivial.
But he was okay. The less-than-mini honk did its job after a few more seconds and we proceded on to whatever we were headed towards.
But I learned a little something about myself that day. Given the chance, I assume someone is causing me to wait because they are inconsiderate, stupid, or whatever.
Given the chance, my four year old is wonders if they might need help.
Turns out you can learn alot from a four year old.
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