Oh come on! It’s a school zone when the lights are flashing or children are present, like the sign RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU says. No lights, no kids—you don’t have to go twenty miles an hour NOW, you idiot.

Okay, we’re past the school zone...that means you can speed up. Damn it, don’t tell me you’re going to creep along all the way to the roundabout a quarter of a mile away. Why yes, yes you are. ’Cause none of the people in the six or seven cars behind you have anywhere to be, right? Thanks for being our pace car.

For chrissakes, you don’t have to stop at a crosswalk when there’s no one near it! I’ll bet you come to a complete stop at the traffic circle, too, even if it’s empty.

Ding, ding, ding—we have a winner! And you get extra points for unnecessary signaling. You kinda got my hopes up that you were actually going to turn right at the street there instead of just entering the roundabout.

Well, imagine that! You managed to exit the thing on the first try. Good job. Now you’re going to speed up, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?!

Of course you’re headed to the same place I am. Why would I expect anything else? Be sure to go as slow as possible through the entire lot even though I can see two empty spots at the end of the row from here.

Ah, finally parked! If I hustle, I won’t be late.

“Excuse me...”

Shit. You’re still holding me up. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for a seminar called ‘The Virtue of Patience: How to Slow Down in Today’s Hurry-up World’—do you happen to know what room it’s in?”

Yup, exactly the same place I’m headed. Great. “As a matter of fact, I do. Follow me.”

“Oh, thank you! I hope it hasn’t started yet.”

“I can assure you it hasn’t. I’m the instructor.”

* * * 
© 2015 by M.P. Witwer • All rights reserved