Welcome to the big city! In Atlanta for our annual staff conference, a bunch of preachers piled into a soccer mom’s van for an entertaining excursion. Our driver, who shall remain nameless, bless her heart, is rather erratic, to put it mildly. Confused and lost as usual, at a stoplight she horns into a turn lane, abruptly cutting off a guy in a pickup truck. Bad move. Never upset a guy in a pickup, especially one sporting construction gear...and tattoos. He is justifiably irritated and proceeds to share his pointed displeasure with our driver. Blasting his horn, he pulls around our van, and wedges his way back into our lane. Angled just right to face her, he rolls down his window and unleashes a torrent of unsavory opinions directed squarely at our driver. He calls her every vile name in the book, replete with explicit descriptive adjectives! That is no way to talk to a lady!
We were aghast. His behavior, while understandable, was inexcusable. You gotta wonder what triggers that level of venomous anger! He cussed her out with vicious precision and skill.
Dumbfounded, we clergy just sat there. To be honest, he deserved to be cussed out in response. However, since we’re a bunch of preachers, we couldn’t do it. We don’t know how! Not one of us is fluent in his colorful vocabulary and could therefore roll down our window and let loose a string of blistering expletives.
Just as well, I suppose.
Our driver, bless her heart, bore it admirably. Makes me wonder if she is accustomed to such raucous episodes. She then offered revealing insight into what just occurred, “That’s why I don’t have a fish on the back of my car.”
Just as well.