A Friday Commute, With Emphasis

Traffic was heavy on my way home from work tonight. I left work a little late, that is always trouble. And there was a very light rain, and that really bogs things down. But, it is Friday, and life has to try pretty hard to ruin the jubilation a weekend brings.

Shuffle was working in harmony with the traffic, keeping perfect time with the ebb and flow of the commute. We were cruising.

Behind me was a Suzuki XL7, silver, with a personalized plate, "GRANMA1" Two older women were chatting amiably, casually in the front seat, and it looked like there were a couple more elderly ladies behind them. Everything was slow, but moving, a live version of Maggie's Farm was playing, and it was great.

Soon, though, the gentle, kindly ladies in the car behind me were starting to get a little anxious. They were swerving into the median to see if things were starting to break up ahead, but it was a solid, slow moving parade as far as could be seen.

When I looked in my rear view mirror I could see them passing wine, drinking right from the bottle, and lighting cigarettes using a can of sterno. The passenger opened a 16 ounce can of beer. She rolled down her window, and flipped the bird to the truck driver stuck beside them.

From their aggressive maneuvers (falling back and then speeding to catch up, almost hitting my car)
it was obvious they were becoming impatient. When the COTA bus cruised past in the median it was more than they could bear.

Jamming their car into the shoulder right behind the bus the driver stomped onto the accelerator and slammed into the bumper. The passenger threw an empty quart beer bottle at the back of the bus.

Central Ohio bus drivers are trained professionals and know how to deal with threats. From the drivers window a mostly empty bourbon bottle described a perfect arc over the top of the bus, and landed almost exactly in the center of the Suzuki's windshield. It was a terrible sound as the windshield cracked and split.

A tremendous kick from the passenger drove the ruined windscreen out of the car and onto the side of the road. It made it easier to open fire on the defiant bus.

In fear for their lives the passengers on the bus returned fire, It was hard to say which was worse the noise, the stench, or the potential traffic jam that could result from this exchange, delaying the commute for hours.

As they drove out of sight, still in the median, still moving much faster than the rest of us, I saw the passenger and both "ladies" from the back seat scrambling out the hole where the front window used to be, jumping on the bus, and throwing tear gas grenades into the holes the gunfire had opened.