Maybe I’m Not The Sexy Scooter Queen I Thought I Was

I was scooting home yesterday in this beautiful, if not slightly dreary fall weather when an unfavorable altercation happened. Not that pocket pool was a favorable altercation or anything.

It is to my knowledge that when stopped at a red light, behind a long line of cars, you may not block any intersections. Am I right or wrong on this one? 

So, at a four way intersection, near a school mind you, I intentionally did not pull into the intersection, but waited for the red light (nearly a mile ahead of me) to turn green. The cross traffic had stop signs, we did not.

As I am sitting, waiting patiently, allowing cross traffic to continue I heard someone honking. I turned around, didn’t see any drama and then faced forward again. I heard some more honking and, “move that motorcycle!” Hmmm, I turned around again and through my dark, cool motorcycle blue blockers, still could not tell who the hell was yelling. 

The light a mile ahead turns green, I inch into the intersection. A white Oldsmobile, two cars behind me makes a screaming left turn. As he does this, his shot gun passenger leans out the window and says, “learn how to drive, bitch”! He said it just like Dave Chappelle says, “I’m rich, bitch!”

Um, WTF? Per usual I sat there, mouth open and promptly thought of a bazillion things I could have shouted back once they were out of sight.

My potential comeback options went from rational:

“I was simply obeying the law”

To confrontational:

“Why don’t you learn how to follow the law, bitch!”

To psychotic:

“DO YOU KNOW THE DAY I HAD TODAY MOTHERFUCKER?!”

I then started to cry, called my friend Steph and made her share a bottle of wine with me after work.