Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Douchebag Lane

Sitting patiently on the left, you can't help wondering about the endless stream of cars passing on the right. Passing because they are trying to slip in somewhere farther up there in the line. Passing because they no longer have the patience to sit and wait. Passing because they think they have some divine right to be allowed to avoid this particular lineup. Passing because they think that the rules do not apply to them. That the rest of us "common folk" are just saps to be avoided wherever possible. When ever possible.

And we know, as we see this endless stream of BMWs, Mercedes and Hummers, that these are truly important people. Important enough that they shouldn't have to sit and wait with the rest of us. Important enough that we should forgive them for their callous rudeness, their disrespect, their "oh-so-clever, I've figured out how to leap to the head of the line, and no one else has" attitude. Important enough that their lives just can't afford the extra minute it might have required to have politely waited with the rest us, until the traffic starts moving again.

Of course, if it were only one or two cars, or it really was of great importance, or it wasn't just because the occupants are such total douchebags, then one could easily understand their haste and the need to bud in front. I mean sometimes we do have to work our way to the front, in whatever fashion is necessary. Sometimes.

Sometimes it is even an accident. Just poor planning, that's all.

It is just that deep in the heart of Toronto, this daily practice for these emphatically-challenged, selfish, self-centered, total wankers is to recklessly weave their cars through traffic at the highest possible speeds cutting off other drivers and causing more delays; further creating new wankers to foolishly follow in their exhaust. If they can squeeze their cars into the worse of all possible places just to save themselves a mere 30 secs, then it really doesn't matter to them if that somehow causes everyone else to be delayed in their wake. Why should that matter to them?

After all, they have important things to do, unlike the rest of us. Stuff like demoralize employees, or paying bigger bribes or cheating the system or even critical things like moving and shaking or perhaps vibrating stuff. You know, all that important negative stuff that keeps the rest of us in line. Stuff like that stuff. Stuff that matters.Unlike manners.

It is clear that cars absolutely bring out the worst in people, and the worst people. It is as if they somehow think they are anonymous, invisible perhaps, that somehow people won't know who they are, or detest them, or judge them for being the horrible, greedy, loathsome creatures that they really are. That somehow by wasting way too much of their money on their fuel-burning, planet-choking, leather-coated, fancy-rolling smoke-mobile, that they are somehow absolved from all of those horrible acts that make up their sorted history. All of the people they treated badly, and all of the times they simply made things worse.

And so they pass, car after car, filling up the douchebag lane with a never ending stream of expensive vehicles, like a river of mucus running from a itchy red nose. Like pus flowing from a nasty wound. The joke on them being that we wait patiently in line not because we too can't figure out how to jump pass everyone else, but precisely because we choose not to.