Admit It...You Have Road Rage, Too!

I do not normally have road rage. In fact, I am usually happy to sit back and listen to the radio or discuss the day with Isaiah. I rarely drive my own car, actually. Whenever I'm with Robert he drives. I have very little chances to collect enough pent up aggression to yell at someone. I usually give the one finger salute to idiots on the road. Isaiah says, "Is that your signal, mom?" Yes. It is my signal, son.

Sunday was our 5th wedding anniversary. I was mad. Robert was mad. It was bound to happen sooner or later. We are sharing our home with family. Though I am happy to have them here we are crowded. I do not live in a mansion. Although, I have been eating like a rich person lately.

So, we're yelling and yelling. I'm yelling. Robert is talking. I'm yelling. More yelling. Then, I'm crying out of anger. And, Robert is staring at me in disbelief. Then he's yelling and I'm yelling. And then silence. We walk into Winco and we buy our groceries. We get back to the car and there is more yelling. And yelling. I am driving behind a young couple driving a Lexus SUV. I am yelling and listening to music. And I am driving in the far right lane. Yelling. Robert is silent. Usually silent.

I'm yelling and all of a sudden the Lexus swerves into my lane cutting me off and nearly wreaking both cars. Josiah is in the car. He's asleep. Clearly, my yelling is soothing. Suddenly I am filled with complete rage. Rage so deep I want to follow this woman home and bitch her out. Then, I do.

I follow her into a neighborhood. I follow her past a school bus stop. I follow her through two stop signs. Three turns. Lots of trees. Dozens of mailboxes. I follow her. I put my blinker on at all the appropriate spots. I do not tail her. I just follow. I follow while Jason Mraz plays LUCKY. Man, am I lucky to be in love with my best friend. Before marriage ask yourself this: IS THIS PERSON, THIS INDIVIDUAL THE PERSON YOU WANT TO IRRITATE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE? We're lucky. I am still following. Still yelling.

Then, Robert says, "Umm...honey? What are you doing?" I look at him in disbelief. What does he mean what am I doing? Clearly, I am following. DUH. What kind of question is this. I tell him that this woman needs to know that it is not acceptable to be driving that way. There are children on the road. There are children in my car.

The Lexus pulls into a small duplex thing. I pull up behind her. I roll down my window and I silently pray she gets out of the car and bitches me out. I can't wait. My heart is pounding, but I am so angry, so irritated I feel the need to take it out on someone other than my husband who is now looking at me in complete astonishment. I'm sure he doesn't recognize this person--his wife.

The passenger door to the Lexus opens and a Russian man says, "We are so sorry. We apologize." I cuss him out. I yell at him. I yell at Robert. I am so mad that I can't think. I have an urge to pull my baby out and introduce him to these people. These people should know that their driving isn't acceptable. They should know that you can't be running people off the road. They should know that mama bears are not to be messed with. Mama bears will take you out.

Then, I drive away as I flip them off. And, I continue yelling at Robert who is still staring at me. Then, I feel better. And, it is over. I drive home in silence. I make a mojito. I take a nap. I feel better.