Thank god they heard me and stopped with a collective gasp. I barely made it through the intersection unscathed except for the coffee burn on my hand. A woman that was about to cross from the side opposite me witnessed the event and said, "Oh my god, he just ran that light!" When I turned I could see that the guy was on his cell phone. I wanted to give chase but the last time I sprinted 45 mph with a coffee in hand was…well I can't remember the last time I was able to accomplish that…if at all. Either way I was pissed.
On another pleasant day with the temperature at similar quaintness as the above story I was driving my old truck. A line of cars did that annoying repetitive dance common on L.A. streets where because the lights are timed just-so, the group must stop at every dang light. It's a situation where lane changing and accelerating get you nowhere so its best to accept it, drive the speed limit and get 'there' when you get 'there.' As I stopped at red light number three hundred I received a little bump from behind. I checked my rear view mirror with a gentle curse word. A thirty-something brunette was talking on her phone and looked shocked when our eyes met. When we pulled over to assess the damage the dialog went as follows: (she was a soccer mom decked out in Lulu Lemon wear and brand new Shape Up shoes by Skechers. I hate those shoes by the way).
"Hi, well, no damage to you," she determines as quickly as possible. Perhaps she works as an insurance claims adjuster part time.
I get low and have a closer look. She keeps talking. "You see it's these shoes they're really comfortable but horrible for driving."
"So why are you driving in them?" I ask.
"I know right? Duh. So I think we're good here. Again, no damage to you and you know I really need to get my daughter home she's starving."
Judging by the brand new Range Rover and high end yoga get-up I'd bet the daughter was anything but starving. And oh, how Mommy must cherish the poor girl as she drives around the city chatting on the phone while running into unsuspecting semi-good looking brothers.
"My thought is that you run into me and talk about your shoes. I would think the first thing you'd do is apologize?"
And no word of a lie, I kid you not she smiled at me and said NOTHING! A certain word came to mind but I kept it to myself. "We're good," I said and got back into my truck and it was there within the confines of my vehicle that I uttered the word that begins with 'B' and rhymes with 'pitch'.
I Got This...
Where are we? What happened? What's going on? I'll tell ya what. We live in a time where (almost) everybody thinks "I got this." News flash: You Don't! You can't drive a 3700 pound vehicle and talk on the phone while wearing goofball gimmicky weight loss friggin' shoes! Nor can you drive a brand new 400 horsepower mercedes benz down the road while talking to your broker. You Don't Got This! You're actually three quarters of a cell phone minute past useless!
When I'm Mayor of Everything…
The fine for talking or texting while driving will be $500. The first $100 will go to the arresting officer so that that she will be incentivized to make the bust. The next $100 will go to an inner city or low income school (TBD). The third $100 will go toward road maintenance. The remaining $200 will be placed in an account. At the end of the year a vote will be held to determine how the excess money will be spent. But it will be school related for example: it will go to iPads in schools, or music programs in schools or school science labs will acquire extra bunsen burners (do they still have those anymore?).
|As worn by The Mayor of Everything...|
And for those with polished monocle that would guffaw at $500 be advised that the fine will double with each offense. Oh, I almost forgot: A portion of the '$200 account money' will go to judges so that when citizens attempt to fight their infraction the judges may be better able to render a just and fair judgment.