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November 29, 2004
Guns on the Highway
When I lived in Chicago I had a convenient, tool-free, interstate with which to drive through the city. I-90/94 cuts the city much like Pulaski highway/40 does here in Baltimore. (The difference being it is an interstate, 40 isn't. This makes it sort of like I-895 and I-95 except that it has no tolls in the city, and it actually goes through the city.)
Depending on the time of day you got on the interstate it would take much less or much more time to get where you're going than it does on route 40. While 40 has those annoying lights at every intersection (Which somehow I manage to hit while red. Every single one of them) I-90/94 has traffic as its only real speed impediment.
I occassionally needed to get where I was going during periods of heavy traffic (perhaps sarcastically) referred to as "rush hour."
One of these times my girlfriend at the time was behind the wheel while I sat in the passenger seat. Whether we were in a hurry or she just decided to change lanes to occupy the void in traffic in the neighboring lane is inconsequential. The fact that she did, however, is important.
She checked the lane, found it was open, put on her turn signal and entered the lane to the left.
This upset a driver two lanes to the left because it was his intention to enter the very same spot, without indicating as much with his turn signal a fraction of a second later.
Having entered the lane before him (even after courteously indicating her intention to do so with a turn signal) she decided she had precedence and completed the lane change.
The other driver, however, did not feel the same way. He sped up in his lane, cut over into the lane we no occupied, and slammed on his breaks.
He stayed stopped on the interstate, so she changed lanes one more time to get around him. That left me with a good view of the dilapidated old Buick as we passed. Wondering why the guy came to a dead stop on the highway I looked over at him. He made some sort of wild gesticulation and then started moving again. He stayed next to us and out of the corner of my eye I could see him motioning. It looked like he wanted me to roll down the window. Why not? He might need some help or something.
"Mother Fucker! I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!"
"What?"
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, you god damn honkie bitch."
"Whatever."
"Don't you fuckin' look away from me."
Then to his passenger, "Get my shortie out the glovebox."
To my driver, "What the hell is wrong with this guy?"
"I think he wanted to get into the same lane I did back there."
"Is that all? He's got a gun. He's waving it out the window. Check it out."
"Oh well. That lane's not moving anyway. He can have it."
Posted by calculatoronfire at November 29, 2004 01:56 PM