A finger is a terrible thing to waste

Last week, I made someone on the road so angry with me they almost crashed into the median while violently giving me the finger. It is one of my proudest moments.

On the way home from my last class of 2008, I was driving along the NJ Parkway when someone came zooming up behind me. He stopped just short of my bumper and began flashing his bright lights at me. Now normally I move out of the left lane when I have gotten past the slow-moving car I wanted to pass, but with this numbskull doing his best to make me curse his name, I decided to have some fun. The Parkway at this point has three lanes, so I slowed down to go the exact speed as the car next to me. As the doofus behind me started swerving in and out between the two lanes, I began a maniacal laugh, knowing he could not get around us. After a few seconds of this, he tried to go into the right-most lane, but couldn't get over there either. He came back behind me, flashing his lights again, but I continued to shadow the car in the next lane. He eventually got back in the right lane and passed the car in the middle lane; at this point I sped up and blocked his path into the left lane as he looked desperately for an opening. I laughed a bit more, but by this time I started to grow tired of this - it had been going for over a minute, and it was hard work driving someone this crazy.

So I gave up and let him get in front of me. As he drove by me, he gave me the bird. But this was no ordinary middle finger experience. He had rolled his window down and stuck his hand out the window, pumping his arm back and forth in a most violent way. He continued this as he drove by me, got in my lane in front of me and drove off. As he drove off, his arm violently pumping with that one finger reaching skyward, he failed to notice the slight bend in the road, and his car veered out of the lane and towards the large wall separating the Parkway. He just managed to turn his car - using one arm of course - before ramming into the concrete. And of course, this made me wonder what I would have done had he crashed. Am I morally obligated to help a man who badly injures himself while shouting some of the most vile obscenities available at me? A question for the ages.

Putting the sport in transport

I started classes last week, which isn't such a big deal except that it means that, after two months of driving no more than 15 miles a week since my office moved to NYC, I am driving regularly again, to and from class twice a week. Yesterday, I was reminded of all the reasons I don't like driving around New Jersey. But is commuting in a car worse than public transportation commuting? Here, I will decide once and for all, which is better: public transportation or driving.

Some of you know that I enjoy singing along to Les Miserables loudly and wonderfully. In the car, no one but me knows I'm pretending to be Jean Valjean. On the train I get stares, but is that going to stop me from singing along to the greatest musical ever? No. Point Car.

On the train, I can sit back and read a book or listen to music and drift in and out of consciousness. When I do either of those in my car, I tend to veer off the road and into on-coming traffic. Also, it's hard to turn a page with one hand on the steering wheel. Point Train.

In the car, I have plenty of room to spread out and I rarely have large sweaty people touching me. (Thought there was that one time when I pulled an Eddie Murphy ... ) On the train, unfortunately, I seem to attract the affections of large men. This is my curse. Point Car.

On the train, I do not have to worry about congestion except when we get around the tunnel, and even then it's not ME who is concerned with moving along. In the car, I have to deal with a mass of humanity trying to squeeze into three lanes of highway with idiots cutting one another off without any thought of others while my blood pressure slowly rises to a boil. Dealing with these ass clowns* takes the gentleman out of me. Two Points Train.

I have tried to keep this blog profanity free, but you try driving on the Parkway and leaving it a gentleman. Give me 5 minutes on the Parkway, I'll give you new and wonderful ways to offend the ears of God.

On the train, you are putting your time and life in the hands of a few others, whom you must assume are competent enough to get you where you're going. In the car, you are putting your life in the hands of thousands of people I am quite certain are not competent. Point Train.

Alright, by my count it's Train 4, Car 2. And I grow tired of counting, so that's the final answer. Public transportation forever.