I think that I made my feelings about the road construction sufficiently clear yesterday. After careful observation, however, I think that I neglected one very important side effect of this debaucle-- a marked increase in rudeness.
Utah has always been a scary place to drive. I guess perhaps it is the faux power we feel in relative anonymity. (No one knows it's me in this sea of silver mini-vans.) We take out our frustrations from behind the wheel. For example, the only time I ever saw my dad flip the bird was in traffic.
The Anonymous Utah Driver Principle states that, even though the moron who just cut you off and stole your parking place might be someone you know (c'mon, this is a very small town), you have to pretend it's a stranger you'll never see again.
However, since the beginning of the AFIP (Really stands for American Fork Irrigation Project, although I'm reworking the acronym to stand for A Flippin' Imbecilic Piece-of-Crap, or at very least the American Fork Irritation Project) the rudeness on the road has made its way indoors.
Take for example the woman at the Target food counter today. (We'll save the reason I was eating there for another day.) The checkout girl was new and accidentally added on a $1.75 box of breadsticks to her order. You'd think the girl had tried to steal her social security number. When she finally settled down enough to go get her Icee at the Icee machine and she discovered they hadn't given her one of those special dome shaped lids, she really hit the roof.
A short while later at Wal-Mart, I got my head bitten off by some lady whose child was blocking the isle. I said "Excuse me, please" in my nicest talking-to-a-little-kid voice, and she looked at me like I spoke Japanese. I said it again, a little louder, waiting for her mother to hear me and move her out of the way. Nothin'. I said "Excuse me" louder this time, and the mother turned and looked at me like I had just ran over her child with my cart.
She went off on me about yelling at her kid, and as I tried to explain how I had nicely said "please", she mocked me and said, "Sure you did. She's just a little girl. Some people...." I left quickly.
Doug looked up at me in horror-- I think he was ready to go back and fight the lady for me. He asked if I felt bad and I told him a little, but that it was okay. He said, "Don't feel bad, Mommy. Your family still loves you and families are better than meanies." What a cutie.
My whole point in these illustrations is that they are happening more frequently and I attribute it to the AFIP. People can only tolerate and absorb a certain amount of rage before it starts spilling out of their mouths all over whoever happens to be in their path. Being as we are all subject to exponentially higher amounts of it every time we start our engines, I'm afraid we're all going to see more of this over the next three years. The city should have included in the AFIP budget a few doses of valium for each household, just to keep the peace.
Oh, and to the lady who vomitted her rage on me today, I hope that your little outburst made you feel better somehow. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to explain to my 4 year old son about why some grown-ups don't use their good manners.
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