Dear Irate Drivers . . .

You know who you are. You’re the woman on the cell phone who honked her horn today when I paused at a stop sign at the grocery store to allow a woman walking with a limp to proceed along the crossing area. You were in a car behind mine, so you obviously had a better grasp of the situation than I did. And the fact that you chose not to stop at the stop sign after I made a left turn, and roared off on your way proves that. You were in a hurry. Got it.

You’re the man who also honked his horn at the same stop sign, because last week I waited while an elderly man walked at a slow, measured pace on his way inside the grocery store.

Sorry, people. I didn’t get the memo. I should have plowed into both or hastened on my way, forcing each person to leap out of the way as best as he or she could. That’s what your honking meant, right? I should have remembered that courtesy and patience are archaic notions that have no place in the twenty-first century. Thanks for reminding me that as long as I get where I’m going, that’s all that matters. Me first.

Got it.

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