I live in Atlanta in case you didn’t know. And Atlanta isn’t know for its friendly drivers in case you really didn’t know. I supposed I’ve sort of taken on a bit (ok a lot) of the attitudes of many Atlantan drivers. The only reason to drive is to get where you’re going as quickly and efficiently as you possibly can.
The result is a rushed, sometimes rude outlook on traveling. Sean doesn’t get why I’m always saying, “Pass this guy.” Or, “What is this lady thinking going 60 mph on 285?” Or, “Sean, if you go 70 we can make it home in less than 5 minutes.”
Why am I in such a hurry to get where I’m going? Maybe it’s a metaphor for my life. I don’t know.
But tonight, after kickboxing, I was taught a lesson in what I’m going to call Southern kindness. Now, don’t get all “The South produces better humans” on me, because I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I believe you are a product of your environment, regardless of your location.
Anyway, I was stopping to put gas in my car after TurboKick Tuesday night. There’s a BP between the YMCA and my apartment that mysteriously charges $0.50 less than the BP right by my apartment. So I pull in and this guy pulls in the other entrance and we end up face to face in our cars. He doesn’t move and so I am forced to swing around him.
It wasn’t that big of a deal, but in my head I was thinking, “Gosh! What a jerk! I bet he wasn’t even paying attention! Waiting for me to go around him! Maybe he should have just gone a different way, he had to have seen me coming.”
As I was swiping my debit card and opening my gas cap, he walked up to me and … apologized. He said he thought I was going to exit out of the entrance he had just come in, so he didn’t move so I could get out of the gas station.
This is pretty much unheard of here in Hotlanta. I was shocked and felt like a complete loser-faced dumbo. It appears as though some people in this big city do have manners when it comes to driving.