Tales from the 101

Anyone who has lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for any length of time will tell you that the commute is getting worse all the time.  Luckily I am able to carpool most of the way with my husband, Jerry.  This really helps with the westbound approach to the San Mateo Bridge.  However, once Jerry gets to his destination in Foster City I am on my own for the next five miles to my workplace in Redwood City and this leg of the trip can often take up to 30 minutes.

Alternate routes are limited and equally congested so I am stuck going through the 92 interchange to southbound 101.  The traffic is almost always bumper to bumper and the drivers I encounter on this route have made me a pessimist about the future of humanity.  Traffic may be getting bad because there are more drivers on the road but the main culprit are people on their phones.

Yesterday morning’s asshat was in an old grey Honda Accord with a cigarette in one hand and a phone in the other.  I was behind him and saw in his side mirror, his eyes looking down with an occasional break to look up and take a puff on the ole cancer stick, blowing smoke out his open window.  When he almost rear ended the work truck in front of him I thought he would be scared straight and put the phone down.  But nope, he still couldn’t stop looking and instead slowed everyone down by hardly moving at all. I finally leaned on the horn to get him moving and as an added bonus I rolled down my window and stuck my head out and yelled at the top of my voice, “GET OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE!”

To my surprise he actually heard me and amazingly the erratic phone driving stopped. Unfortunately I also scared him out of the lane and a few yards later he merged to the left, early and over the solid line. That’s OK because I was glad to be rid of him. I need to start screaming at my fellow commuters out my rolled down window more often. It was extremely satisfying and made for a better rest of the day.

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