When I'm caught behind a slow left lane driver, venom courses through my veins. I bellow obscenities and entertain despicable thoughts. I become uncivilized.
My mother would not be proud.
That said, I doubt I'm alone. We all know the frustration: Coming up behind a left-laner, all we can see is the top, back portion his head. If we do manage to pass and get a glimpse of his face, he's oblivious to our raised middle finger, shouts of rage and expressions of primal contempt.
He's seemingly anonymous. But. . .
I believe these people are identifiable. Hidden in plain sight, they're the ones who block supermarket aisles with their carts, put doctors behind schedule with a hundred stupid questions, sit directly in front of us at the movies when all the other seats are empty.
The sooner we realize this, the sooner we can bring them to justice personally. Give them threatening looks, mutter mean things under our breath, make citizens' arrests.
You know. Things like that.
Please join me in my revolt.
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