Cops 2, Me 1
It was the summer of 2002, and there was, as usual, road construction all around my home. I live in a subdivision off of an extremely busy road, route 59, which runs from Joliet all the way up to Schaumburg (and beyond).
This particular week, in the summer of 2002, we had been experiencing some major traffic issues in our neighborhood. Route 59, in front of our subdivision, was closed for construction. This meant that people were using our neighborhood, where kids were riding tricycles and stuff, as a detour.
And, since everyone in suburban Chicago is in a hurry to get to wherever they are going, they didn't slow down. Nope, cars were speeding in front of my house (where the speed limit is 25 mph) at 50+ miles per hour.
Now, at the time, I didn't have any kids, but there was something about these people speeding down this road in front of my home that enraged me. I had just gotten home from work, and I was hungry and crabby. My wife, who had been finishing up her Master's degree, had class that night, so I ordered a pizza for dinner.
After ordering the pizza I went back outside to check the mail. Standing by the mailbox, looking over the bills (which only made me even more crabby), I heard a car screaming down the road. It was a white car, perhaps a Toyota, with a hurried suburbanite inside, traveling at a speed that no rational person should ever travel in such near proximity to playing children.
That's when something came over me: Rage.
In a split second I did something without thought. It had something to do with the lower cerebral cortex, I suppose, and neurons firing without any particular processing from the more logical parts of my brain, where I think about possible outcomes.
Okay, church friends, I'm gonna warn you: I'm going to use the F-word on my blog. I never have before. I've used all the other words, but not this one. Not yet. But I must, because it's how it went down.
In an instant I threw my middle finger in the air, with an amount of vitriol that I haven't felt since my high school girlfriend dumped me for John Hall, the big linebacker jock from Garrett (the next town over).
With my middle finger high in the air I shouted, in my most angry man voice, "Hey FUCK YOU!"
Have you ever seen the angry face Robert Deniro makes in the movie The Deer Hunter when he's finally had enough of his captors slapping him? It's the most angry face I've ever seen in a movie, and it's worth renting The Deer Hunter just to see that face.
I made that face.
And the man driving the speeding car saw me. He saw my anger... And I was glad, for the moment. "I showed him," I thought.
I walked in to the house, feeling rather satisfied by my newfound courage.
But my courage only lasted so long... You see, this is when I looked down the road and saw that the speeding car had it's reverse lights on. He was coming back!
Uh oh.
I wasn't prepared for a confrontation. I just wanted to flip somebody off and yell.
--------------
I went inside and locked the door, wondering if perhaps this guy was going to try to kill me. My mind raced, thinking of all the strange road rage stories in the news, and I wondered if I should go get my aluminum baseball bat, or perhaps a skillet... Something to use for self defense (I didn't own a gun at the time).
The man parked his car out front and approached my house. He knocked and rang the doorbell. I stood, out of sight, with no intention whatsoever of answering the door.
Remember John Hall, the jock who stole my girlfriend? (I've mentioned the situation on this blog before.) Anyway, John Hall was one of the last people I had confronted, about 10 years earlier. When I confronted him, all 250 pounds of him, he grabbed my scrawny head and punched me with his gigantic fists.
Suffice it to say, I'm not big on physical confrontation. I run away from hissing geese, for crying out loud!
--------------
Soon enough the man went away, after realizing that I was too big of a wuse to answer the door. I was relieved, mostly because he was gone before the pizza guy showed up. I mean, can you imagine, me having to answer the door for my pizza while the angry man who I just flipped off and cussed at stood there? It would have been awkward. Surely, pizza would have been the only reason for me to open the door at that moment.
I wonder if the pizza guy would have helped me out in a scuffle. There would have been a nice tip in it for him, if he would have.
I guess we'll never know.
--------------
Not long thereafter I noticed two cars show up in front of my home. I had been waiting on the pizza, my stomach growling with hunger (or was it fright?). But neither of these cars were the pizza guy... Nope, these cars were police officers.
"Uh oh," I thought, "I wonder if it's illegal to flip people off and cuss at them."
I really didn't know.
I walked outside to greet the officers, neither of whom seemed in any kind of mood to exchange pleasantries.
Oh yeah, also, the lights on the cop cars were on, so my neighbors were all peaking out the windows, watching their nice Christian neighbor talk to the cops.
One officer spoke, "We had a report that some crazy guy was out here screaming obscenities and flipping people off, would that be you?"
I stammered, "Well, when you put it that way..."
He wasn't amused, "Was that you?"
"Um, I suppose." I proceeded to ask, "Why, is it illegal to flip somebody off?"
It may have sounded like a sarcastic response, but it wasn't, I really didn't know.
The officer remained stern, "Why would you do that?"
This is when I got all surly, "Did the guy who called tell you how fast he was driving?"
You see, now I had permission to get all self-righteous, knowing that I hadn't done anything illegal.
I continued, "We're getting sick and tired of people speeding down this road where kids are playing? Why aren't you out here writing tickets? Why did you come here to talk to me? You guys should have been here hours ago!"
I realized that I sounded very old and cranky and silly. Not even 30 years old, and I sounded like a cranky old man!
This is when the pizza guy showed up.
I offered the officers some pizza, but they seemed uninterested, instead warning me that I shouldn't cause fights in the street or something. I think the officer said something about public disturbances, but I I don't really know what all was said, I wasn't paying that much attention. At that point I was more interested in going inside and eating my pizza.
Is there a moral to the story?
Not really, but there are two things I'd like to leave you with:
1. John Hall was a jerk. Yes, I got the girl back! Take that, John Hall!
2. You should have seen the look on the pizza guy's face. It was priceless.
3. This may be the first time I have shared this story with my 'church friends.'
This particular week, in the summer of 2002, we had been experiencing some major traffic issues in our neighborhood. Route 59, in front of our subdivision, was closed for construction. This meant that people were using our neighborhood, where kids were riding tricycles and stuff, as a detour.
And, since everyone in suburban Chicago is in a hurry to get to wherever they are going, they didn't slow down. Nope, cars were speeding in front of my house (where the speed limit is 25 mph) at 50+ miles per hour.
Now, at the time, I didn't have any kids, but there was something about these people speeding down this road in front of my home that enraged me. I had just gotten home from work, and I was hungry and crabby. My wife, who had been finishing up her Master's degree, had class that night, so I ordered a pizza for dinner.
After ordering the pizza I went back outside to check the mail. Standing by the mailbox, looking over the bills (which only made me even more crabby), I heard a car screaming down the road. It was a white car, perhaps a Toyota, with a hurried suburbanite inside, traveling at a speed that no rational person should ever travel in such near proximity to playing children.
That's when something came over me: Rage.
In a split second I did something without thought. It had something to do with the lower cerebral cortex, I suppose, and neurons firing without any particular processing from the more logical parts of my brain, where I think about possible outcomes.
Okay, church friends, I'm gonna warn you: I'm going to use the F-word on my blog. I never have before. I've used all the other words, but not this one. Not yet. But I must, because it's how it went down.
In an instant I threw my middle finger in the air, with an amount of vitriol that I haven't felt since my high school girlfriend dumped me for John Hall, the big linebacker jock from Garrett (the next town over).
With my middle finger high in the air I shouted, in my most angry man voice, "Hey FUCK YOU!"
Have you ever seen the angry face Robert Deniro makes in the movie The Deer Hunter when he's finally had enough of his captors slapping him? It's the most angry face I've ever seen in a movie, and it's worth renting The Deer Hunter just to see that face.
I made that face.
And the man driving the speeding car saw me. He saw my anger... And I was glad, for the moment. "I showed him," I thought.
I walked in to the house, feeling rather satisfied by my newfound courage.
But my courage only lasted so long... You see, this is when I looked down the road and saw that the speeding car had it's reverse lights on. He was coming back!
Uh oh.
I wasn't prepared for a confrontation. I just wanted to flip somebody off and yell.
--------------
I went inside and locked the door, wondering if perhaps this guy was going to try to kill me. My mind raced, thinking of all the strange road rage stories in the news, and I wondered if I should go get my aluminum baseball bat, or perhaps a skillet... Something to use for self defense (I didn't own a gun at the time).
The man parked his car out front and approached my house. He knocked and rang the doorbell. I stood, out of sight, with no intention whatsoever of answering the door.
Remember John Hall, the jock who stole my girlfriend? (I've mentioned the situation on this blog before.) Anyway, John Hall was one of the last people I had confronted, about 10 years earlier. When I confronted him, all 250 pounds of him, he grabbed my scrawny head and punched me with his gigantic fists.
Suffice it to say, I'm not big on physical confrontation. I run away from hissing geese, for crying out loud!
--------------
Soon enough the man went away, after realizing that I was too big of a wuse to answer the door. I was relieved, mostly because he was gone before the pizza guy showed up. I mean, can you imagine, me having to answer the door for my pizza while the angry man who I just flipped off and cussed at stood there? It would have been awkward. Surely, pizza would have been the only reason for me to open the door at that moment.
I wonder if the pizza guy would have helped me out in a scuffle. There would have been a nice tip in it for him, if he would have.
I guess we'll never know.
--------------
Not long thereafter I noticed two cars show up in front of my home. I had been waiting on the pizza, my stomach growling with hunger (or was it fright?). But neither of these cars were the pizza guy... Nope, these cars were police officers.
"Uh oh," I thought, "I wonder if it's illegal to flip people off and cuss at them."
I really didn't know.
I walked outside to greet the officers, neither of whom seemed in any kind of mood to exchange pleasantries.
Oh yeah, also, the lights on the cop cars were on, so my neighbors were all peaking out the windows, watching their nice Christian neighbor talk to the cops.
One officer spoke, "We had a report that some crazy guy was out here screaming obscenities and flipping people off, would that be you?"
I stammered, "Well, when you put it that way..."
He wasn't amused, "Was that you?"
"Um, I suppose." I proceeded to ask, "Why, is it illegal to flip somebody off?"
It may have sounded like a sarcastic response, but it wasn't, I really didn't know.
The officer remained stern, "Why would you do that?"
This is when I got all surly, "Did the guy who called tell you how fast he was driving?"
You see, now I had permission to get all self-righteous, knowing that I hadn't done anything illegal.
I continued, "We're getting sick and tired of people speeding down this road where kids are playing? Why aren't you out here writing tickets? Why did you come here to talk to me? You guys should have been here hours ago!"
I realized that I sounded very old and cranky and silly. Not even 30 years old, and I sounded like a cranky old man!
This is when the pizza guy showed up.
I offered the officers some pizza, but they seemed uninterested, instead warning me that I shouldn't cause fights in the street or something. I think the officer said something about public disturbances, but I I don't really know what all was said, I wasn't paying that much attention. At that point I was more interested in going inside and eating my pizza.
Is there a moral to the story?
Not really, but there are two things I'd like to leave you with:
1. John Hall was a jerk. Yes, I got the girl back! Take that, John Hall!
2. You should have seen the look on the pizza guy's face. It was priceless.
3. This may be the first time I have shared this story with my 'church friends.'
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