I HATE road construction. I mean, I know that it is a necessary evil, but I really hate road construction. It truly started a few summers ago, when Workaholic and I were driving to the lake together a couple of weeks before Memorial Day. We have to take a major expressway for about 50 miles. It is 6 lanes across, and it seems as though they are always working on part of it. That summer, they were working on a LOT of it.
We joined the thousands of other people leaving the Chicago area to head for a relaxing weekend in Michigan. And then we hit the lane closures. I think they took our three lanes down to two, which really should not be that big a deal. I don’t know if there was an accident thrown in there or what, but Fonz decided that day that he hates expressways, and especially those with road construction. Our hour and a half trip turned into over three hours, much of it just sitting. And Fonz got more and more nervous, pacing, panting…he knew we weren’t supposed to be sitting there. And ever since, he has been a wreck in the car. Sedatives don’t help, Xanex doesn’t help. I have considered combining them, but what has helped is sticking him in the third seat of the minivan and putting a seat belt on him. At least that way he isn’t in my lap. Less drugs are better for an almost 11 year old mutt.
I especially hated road construction this morning. They are re-paving a stretch of road near our house, and since I didn’t have to take Sam to daycare, I had to go that way to work. I could have taken the 10 minute detour. OR, I could have cut through the neighborhood which is right next to the road construction. Which I am sure everyone else does. And if I lived in that neighborhood, I would be soooo annoyed at all of these people driving through my usually quiet streets. But I decided I didn’t care, I was already running late and so through the neighborhood it is.
I was very cautious to be respectful of the speed limit signs. (Which the large black truck that had followed me did NOT appreciate.) I navigated the twists and turns with a keen eye…or so I thought. I came to the last stop sign, getting ready to turn left. There were 2 cars on my left headed towards me, and I was watching to see if they were going to go straight or turn by me. And I was watching my review mirror to make sure that big black truck wasn’t going to rear-end me. And I guess I forgot to look to the right to make sure no cars were coming before I decided to commence my left-hand turn.
Turns out, there was a car coming. And the woman in the tan SUV turning towards me wasn’t waving and cursing at me for cutting through her neighborhood, she was actually trying to warn me that I was turning DIRECTLY INTO THE PATH OF ANOTHER CAR. It was a red H2, driven by a man who sort of looked like Meatloaf. And he DID NOT appreciate getting cut off. To the tune of honking his little Hummer horn at me for a good 10 seconds. And then tailgating me a half of a mile to the next stoplight. And then pulling up next to me and ROLLING DOWN HIS WINDOW to yell at me.
I didn’t roll mine, I just waved my hands and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” I wish I could’ve thrown my 8 month pregnant belly out the window and been like, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! DOES IT LOOK LIKE THE CRAZY PREGNANT WOMAN IN THE MINIVAN MEANT TO CUT YOU OFF??!” He shook his head at me regardless and pulled away.
But really people. I mean, I can understand road rage. Especially on a construction congested expressway. I understand getting angry and beeping your horn and flipping someone off. But in a neighborhood?? Where the speed limit is 25 miles per hour?? And then stalking someone?? Do you really think that I was in THAT much of a hurry that I intentionally pulled out in front of you to beat you to the stop sign a ½ block away? Don’t you believe in honest driving mistakes? I wasn’t talking on my cell phone, I didn’t have the radio up crazy loud. I was just trying to get to work.
And then it happened. I started to cry. I don’t know why. I was just so pissed off that Meatloaf just couldn’t be understanding and could be so mean to a little girl in a minivan. And then I couldn’t stop crying. The whole way to work, I was angry at myself for crying. Which made me cry more. It was like the time when I cried after an encounter with the Taco Bell drive-thru.
I hate crying. And I hate road construction. And I hate the Taco Bell drive-thru. I am hoping that all this just has to do with hormones, and the fact that when I left the house this morning it was already 150 degrees outside. A small comfort is that I have only about 6 more weeks of all this, and then at least I don’t have to worry about driving to work…at least for a while. Until then, I may try to avoid that damn neighborhood.