Hell Hath No Fury

So. I was out running today, and despite the dreary, drippy weather, I had a perfectly marvelous time. Mostly.

On my way back, I turned onto Minnehaha Parkway and crossed the crosswalk. The guy approaching the intersection (who had, by the way, been slowing down, so I had assumed  – erroneously – that he was intending to obey the law) slammed on his breaks and leaned into the horn.

“Get out of the road, c***!” he yelled.

I froze in my tracks. No, I thought.  I must have imagined it. There’s absolutely no way that anyone uses that word for real.

Then, he said it again. He was red-faced. Apoplectic. He sputtered. All for a crosswalk. At this point I was more amused than pissed (though, let’s be serious. I was pissed.)

Now, here’s the part where I should mention that the park police were stationed all up and down the highway, snagging idiots who decided that the speed limit didn’t apply to them. So, I looked at my new best friend – who was standing outside of his car, pissed beyond all recognition that I still hadn’t moved out of the way, and I said this: “A one-word insult is all you can manage? I can think of a three word insult for you. The first word being ‘miserable’ and the second word being ‘flaccid’. I won’t tell you what the third word is,” then I skipped up the road, and reported him for failure to yield to a pedestrian in a crosswalk, and continued my run with a merry heart and with the internal glow of responsible citizenship.

So that was my day. How was yours?

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