A few days ago I was on my way to work when a lady in a black Lexus attempted to pull out in front of me. She had come to a 4-way stop about 5 seconds after me, but felt that she was entitled to the right-of-way because of her car (which was probably leased). I blew my horn and slowed down to make her drive to work even more misreable. We were on a two-lane, neighborhood street, with cars parked on both sides of the road, so passing was not an option. I enjoyed my power over this bitch who had almost caused a wreck because of her sense of entitlement.
It took her only a couple of blocks before she grew tired of my bit and she attempted to pass me in the face of oncoming traffic on the two-lane, neighborhood street. Finally, she realized she was stuck behind me and she rode it out for the next mile and a half until the street emptied into a major city street. Countless people, like the black Lexus inhabit the Metroplex and put millions of lives in danger each day when they treat our freeways and city streets as race tracks, zipping from place to place, weaving in and out of lanes and trying at all costs to shave 5 minutes off of their commute.
Juxtaposed with that, I park my car in a garage about a half mile from my office building. I walk through a chain of buildings, through a sky bridge and into my buidling. Along the way, I encounter a lot of foot traffic, none of it can be described as swift. There’s the cell phone talker in the garage, who finds it difficult to walk-and-talk at the same time. Once I pass her, I get on the escalator that leads down to the first building, but I get stuck behind the “escalaphobic” who cannot move from their one step on the escalator. Instead of the 2 seconds it would take to climb down the escalator, it takes 2 minutes to ride the son of a bitch to the bottom.
Once I scurry past the “escalaphobic”, I encounter the fashionista (distinguished from the whore by the time of day they roam) in six inch heels. I’ll be the first to admit I couldn’t handle walking in heels, but it’s no excuse to slow me down. If someone wants to wear “cute” shoes, more power to them, but bring a practical pair of shoes to get you from your car to your office.
Once I pass the fashionista, I encounter her opposite–the “breakfast barrons,” easily identified by the McDonald’s breakfast sacks. They waddle up from the food court and plod onto the sky bridge. Almost always, they travel in packs and often move in rows three of four wide, making passing difficult. Once I do pass, many breakfast barrons make noises, which either signal “feeding time” to the rest of their herd or signals their displeasure with my speed. I ignore them and walk on. Alas, I can see the door to my office building.
Before I can reach my destination, I must pass another section of the sky bridge that leads to a large, hotel/convention center. Inevitably, lost convention goers will wander into the sky bridge, disrupting my journey even further. I reach the door, walk through and must navigate another escalator, complete with “escalaphobics.” I reach the lobby, get to my elevator bank and I’m home free, but I realize that Dallas is the city of fast drivers and slow walkers and it irritates me to no end.
