03 April 2012

The Judger of Driving

A few years ago my husband, Jay, and I took the Myers-Briggs test together to see what our personalities were truly like.  We were total opposites in the four categories of the test.  But that's OK, opposites attract, right?  And the outcome of our testing is not really relevant to this post except for the fact that I am categorized as a JUDGER (don't hold this against me--I'll just judge you as a holder-againster  ha....ha).  I'm seriously not happy about this classification.  I don't want to judge people.  That's not nice.  I blame my mother.
And so now, after a lot of deep reflection, I have realized that I can subcategorize myself as a JUDGER OF DRIVING.   The worst of the worst.
I find myself pissing and moaning to a fault over drivers who:
  • follow too closely                                                              
  • don't pull all the way over into the "go straight" lane when there is also a "turn" lane at a traffic light, making it impossible for turning drivers to get through their lane
  • drive straight across parking lots, flying though empty spaces and completely unaware that they are cutting across oncoming traffic (that one really burns my ass)
  • don't use their turn signals (Jay) 
I'm sure I could easily add to the above list.  And don't, if you can help it, be a man when I am PMS-ing.  They tend to be my target of Major Driving Judgement at that given time.  I remember one particular man who was waiting behind me at a traffic light to make a left-hand turn.  He couldn't wait any longer and decided to fly out in front of me, make his left turn and cut me off.  I followed him into the parking lot, and as he was getting out of his very manly Ford F-150 (that's judging, isn't it), I pulled up beside him, rolled down my window and screeched in my best banshee-like voice, "ASSHOLE!"  I really don't think it made any impact on him. He just kind of stood there, staring at me, dumbfounded.  Made me feel a hell of a lot better, though.  At least for the moment.

So, looking back on what I've just written, I realize that I need to try to fix this.  All this animosity is not good for the inner me.  Or for the people around me--in my car and other cars.  And pedestrians.  Plus my kids hear me.  Is my son, who gets his driving permit this summer going to act like me?  Crap, that wouldn't be good.  I think I need a driving mantra:  "I'm OK driving; you're OK driving."  Or something like that.
Oh, one last thing.  Don't f**k with school bus drivers.  They're bad-ass.  This is what happens when you play bumper cars with one of them on a narrow and busy street, such as...oh, say, Huntington Ave. in Boston:

                        Guess I got some judging my way that day.  The bus had nary a scratch.