Little Victories

Sweet, sweet victory. And no one can take that away. Not even to open it. Just try. I dare you.

Hey kids. It has been some time since I last wrote about the quintessential American existential gripe, right? So today’s post offers two short bits of recent news about little victories I enjoyed, and yes, one of them is about driving.

Celebrate the little victories in life because if you wait for the big ones, it may be a long, long wait.
–Tom B. Taker

Offered herein are a pair of true stories where yours truly came out on top, no matter how thinly sliced the margin may have been. And both stories feature some small element of chance and odd elements of coincidence, enough so that my mind couldn’t help but notice.

So strap yourself in for this strange and peculiar journey to the winner’s lane. Don’t worry, I promise I handle it like everything else in life, in a very calm and mature manner.

Our first story finds me driving down the street as innocent as Bambi playing in the pure driven snow…

I’ve often ad infinitum talked about my work commute. It’s exactly three miles long, one way. You’d think that would minimize the odds of bad shit happening during such a short journey. You’d be dead wrong.

I could fill a library if I documented the crap that has happened to me and the things I’ve seen during those three excitement-filled miles. Usually, though, I just silently grin and bear it. I tend to keep things to myself. You know I don’t wish to be a burden or worse, the source of histrionics.

So there I am the other night driving home from work. That’s typically not a good time for me. I’m depleted and sore and feeling like I’ve been turned inside out. After all, I was just at work.

I’m in the far left lane on a one-way street and about a mile from home. The commute is 66 percent over. Then it happened. Some wacko in a mini-van with out-of-state plates cut ridiculously hard across all lanes of traffic and jerked right in front of me. I had to stop short. And there I was like a sap minding my own damn business. That gets me every time.

I clenched my teeth, flung an insult, and gripped the wheel tightly, all of my attention, focus and every fiber of my being now drilled into the vehicle directly ahead.

Now the coincidental part. The mini-van took the next turn which happened to be my turn. My blinker went on and I followed close behind. Another turn and again it was my turn. Again and again and again. As this was going on I had a lot of fun imagining what was going through their little brain. Is this guy following me? What’s he going to do? Mommy!

All I was doing was trying in vain to get home (if the assholes would let me) and for bonus points I imagined how it was freaking out the other driver. It really was a damn good time, even if it was only taking place in my own mind.

Finally we arrived together at my street. Amazingly the pattern had held all the way to the end. Coincidence! Except their left blinker went on and I needed to turn right. They slowed way down, almost stopped, paused for 30 seconds, then ever so slowly pulled away down the street to the left. They proceeded about 1/4 block then just stopped. And sat there.

At this point I could have made my right turn and been home in seconds, but I felt like punishing them. So I pulled slowly up until their street was in my field of view and slowed to a stop. Then I just sat there, too. Watching them.

I kid you not, this moment last a whole damn minute. It felt like an eternity. I could sense that they didn’t want me to see their final destination. Then, finally, that mini-van slowly took off, headed down to the next street, turned, and was out of sight.

My job finished, I went home to celebrate.

Ha, ha, ha! Score one for me, motherfuckers!

I understand people get lost or make mistakes when driving. It happens to all of us. But when it happens to me I don’t suddenly drive like I’m in the Indy 500. I simply proceed to the next intersection, turn, and go around the block. I’m the one who made the mistake, I’m the one who should be inconvenienced, right? Some people, however, are totally incapable of grokking this concept. They have to have what they want, exactly what they want, and right now, damn the other people and the consequences. Even when the whole damn thing is their own damn fault. People like that tend to piss me off. So I thoroughly enjoyed fucking with one of their number.

It turned out that I had to head right back out and go to the store because my wife needed an ingredient for dinner. In my wife’s car this time (stealthy!) I proceeded slowly up the street. My gut told me to be watchful. My gut was right. There, just one block down, only five houses away, was that goddamned mini-van parked in front of my neighbor’s house. The exact opposite direction they had eventually gone when I scared them away.

I did scare them away. They finally got that trip around the block they should have just accepted in the first place.

Sweet victory! Justice has been served.

Yeah, I know. This ain’t exactly a Lance Armstrong type of victory, but a guru has got to settle for what he can get.

Story #2 takes place in a fast food lobby. I placed my order for two esoteric items from the menu. No drink. No damn dessert, thank you. It was “to go.” I then stood back to loiter awkwardly and wait.

After stepping back, a guy entered the place and stepped up to the counter. He had not heard my order. I’ll be damned, but he ordered the exact same items, except he also got a drink. As he took his little cup to the drink fountain I tried to calculate the odds of this happening. It was likely 5,000 to 1. Another coincidence!!

They yelled out that my order was ready. “One deep fried butter and a crispy Colonel’s heart gizzard to go!” Gee, thanks for announcing my choices to everyone in the place. Assholes. I stepped forward to grab the bag and go.

Of course, as I did this, my peripheral vision picked up the fellow who had just placed his order behind me. He was practically sprinting in my direction. I imagined he was thinking, “Hey! That son of a bitch is trying to steal my foods!” Well, too bad, so sad. I’m out the door! I left him standing in the lobby with a delicious look of extreme puzzlement on his face.

I got quite a chuckle from the experience. It almost was enough to lift me through the rest of the work day.

And that, my friends, is the story of how I savored two sweet coincidental victories in a single week. It’s the heady stuff of legend.

We now resume our regularly scheduled misery.