Another fine Monday here in Pittsburgh, PA. You know what that means: let the work week commence; let the hellacious commute on Route 28 begin; let the curse words and/or gestures fly…or not?
This morning, I took the high road. I chose to be an enlightened commuter. That’s how I roll. The jackwagon that cut me off in the narrow-laned construction zone–I didn’t sweat it. The angry, stark ravin’ maven in the BMW riding my behind in bumper to bumper traffic–just gave her a friendly wave in my rearview mirror. The Port Authority bus needing to merge–come on in, buddy. Happy to oblige.
No longer will I join in your reindeer games. No longer will I lay on my horn for five minutes or turn on my high beams when you cut me off. No longer will I slam on my brakes to get you off of my tail. No longer will I turn my head away from the on-ramp, pretending to be distracted so I don’t have to let you merge.
I am above that now. I am somebody’s mother. I am a safe, responsible, curteous, Pittsburgh driver who doesn’t stoop to the level of those who are not as patient or kind. I am Zen.
But God help you all when I’m trying to get home at the end of the day.