Some fuckin asshole cuts me off this morning.
Fine. Shit happens, it’s Boston.
But after he gets in front of me, he starts yelling and flipping me off while looking into his rear view mirror.
I let that go. Again, it’s Boston.
When we’re stopped at a long red light he stares me down through his side view mirror.
Alright tough guy, that’s how you wanna play it? Fine. So I start to smirk at him.
After about seven seconds I raise my hands like “wtf do you want?”
I get nothing just more mean mugging.
At this point I start to get extremely agitated. Hoping he gets out of his car, because at this point- fuck it.
3 things could have happened. 2 of which I had already come to accept.
1. He beats the shit out of me after pulling me out of the car. - it’s obvious he’s got an anger issue. If its unavoidable and I get mauled- well, there’s not much I can do about that, is there?
2. I damn near ruin his face and my hands in the process. There are a bunch of cars stuck at this red light. The more bystanders, the lower the chance is that anyone will help me. I already understand that this means I’m fighting for my life, literally.
This makes me one dangerous son of a bitch.
3. Nothing happens.
I was angry. I had been challenged. I had already accepted that one of us was going to have to be hauled off on a stretcher.
The light is green and he turns one way, I turn the other way. He doesn’t even look back.
I was furious. I wanted to hit something and I didn’t get to. I was more willing to accept blood, bruises and death than nothing. What does that say about me?
So…to the guy in the black suv that ruined my morning-
The guy in the green sedan.