Friday, July 31, 2009

thank you, citizen...

I was racing home from work last night to meet Tim the Trainer, driving in accordance with the law and minding my own beeswax. Suddenly my mother called and well aware that she had just received a tour of my brother's offices, I gave a big middle finger to the rules and answered my phone.
Our conversation lasted 5 minutes and not that it makes a difference, but I was mere blocks from my front door. A gentleman on a motorcycle pulled up next to me. I glanced in his direction and noting that he was NOT a member of the San Francisco Police Department, I continued to hear about my mother's adventure.
All of a sudden, Mr. Motorcycle starts motioning at me, doing some dramatic hand jive and actually trying to tap on my passenger side window. As we were both stopped at a red light, he created a phone shape with his right hand, held it to his ear and then slamed it down.
He was apparently doing a little skit about hanging up, which he repeated 4 or 5 times with great fury and anger.
Was I illegally talking on my cell phone wile driving?
Yes.
Was this guy a fucking douchebag?
Indeed.
I just stared at him and smiled, chatting away with my mother and formulating excuses why I'd be on the phone. Someone died, perhaps. Or maybe I'm getting biopsy results.
He looked like his head might explode, this citizen was so livid with me and my disregard for civilized law and order. He eventually sped off, his little twist and turn around a corner somehow implying he was going to go tell on me.
I relayed the vigilante experience to my mother, still holding my cell phone to my ear while operating a vehicle.
"Oh!" She said. "Do you have to go?"
"No, I most certainly do not. If that guy wants to be a cop so bad, he should join the force."
"Where are you?" She asked.
Needless to say, I was in the Mission. It must be exhausting for Motorcycle Citizen to put-put around all day, watching people eat meat and toss cigarettes and not vote and talk on their cell phones while driving their gas-guzling, Earth-hating cars. He must go home, sit on his plastic crate and extinguish clove cigarettes on his arms in frustration.
So again, was I breaking a law and theorhetically putting people's lives in danger?
Yes.
Should I have run this guy over?
Indeed...

7 comments:

Greg said...

Next time that happens, you should totally freak out the wannabe Ponchs and Johns by saying "oh you want me to call you right now? what's your number?" and they'll go crazy.

hilarious line: "He must go home, sit on his plastic crate and extinguish clove cigarettes on his arms in frustration."

Greg said...

Next time that happens, you should totally freak out the wannabe Ponchs and Johns by saying "oh you want me to call you right now? what's your number?" and they'll go crazy.

hilarious line: "He must go home, sit on his plastic crate and extinguish clove cigarettes on his arms in frustration."

Be_Devine said...

Oh Beth. I know you think the handsfree thingies aren't fashionable enough for you to don, but if Prada makes a headset and I buy it for you, will you wear it? Pretty please?

Natalie said...

Beth, I love your writing and feel like if we met in person we could be friends, but having nearly been run over numerous times by people in cars talking on their phones I gotta side with the motorcycle guy. Granted, I would never myself do such a thing because I would either get a weird look or shot depending on the driver. But still, get a friggin headset please.

Anonymous said...

this is the same guy who "took names" in the second grade when the teacher had to leave the room

Anonymous said...

You are the funniest person I know. U.T.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, he was a jerk, and yeah, I'm a jerk: Coming back from the farmer's market, a cop cut me off in the way that cops love to do when they're late for their coffee break. Nursing my citizen angst, I noted a cop in the next few blocks chatting away on his cell phone. When we arrived at the next intersection, I made sure to wave at him when he glanced over at me out of habit to see if I was drinking and driving or whatever cops look for, and I caught his eye. I am guilty of making the hand-phone-hang up motion at him. He gave me the nastiest look I've ever seen on a cop's face, hung up the phone, and then tailed me for a mile hoping I'd make a mistake. It was perversely gratifying.