Bowhunting And The Beltway, A Love Story

I played basketball after work yesterday (poorly). I met my kid brother after work, which means I drove a different route than I normally do. Mercifully, traffic is rarely a problem for me because I have a reverse commute. But yesterday I had to take the exit for the Beltway, southbound, from the Dulles Toll Road. There might not be a better place in the entire Metro area to find the lowest fucking scum on the earth- the asshole that cheats his way all the way up the merge lane to get in front of six cars and shave 39 seconds off his commute. Because there are three different roads merging together, this gives Johnny roadrage and his wraparound sunglasses and 'W' bumperstickers multiple chances to demonstrate that if you drive a luxury SUV, you must be really fucking important.

I'm sitting in line, waiting to go south, watching people dart into the line at the last second. I've noticed that this strategy has the ancillary affect of terrorizing the timid drivers who are waiting in line, causing them to inch along slowly and cause even further backups. Of course this only hurts the courteous drivers, because the slowpokes leave huge holes for even more Republicans to come diving into the lane at the last second.

So I'm sitting there when a guy in a pickup truck cuts in to the three feet of space right in front of me. I don't let him in, I move forward. He accelerates, and I accelerate. He's in the shoulder now, and I can read his bumperstickers, which are plentiful. There are the usual Bush and "Support Our Troops" (because lord knows liberals want all our troops to die) stickers, but there is one that stands out, something or other espousing the merits of bowhunting. I laugh out loud at that.

Look, if shooting little furry things with an arrow makes you happy, knock yourself out. I remember we had archery classes at camp in sixth grade and it was kinda fun, so I can imagine you get a kick out of it. I just find it funny that you feel the need to tell the world that you're macho enough to be a Bowhunter. It's funny because you're telling us other things as well, such as:

-You're the guy that won't sit next to your buddy at the bar. You make sure there is an empty seat between the two of you. Sitting next to another man is for fags!

-You walk by the urinals on your way to the stall. You can't pee with those other men around you, you might get tempted to look at their penises. Looking at penises is for fags!

Why go on? I think you know the type.

So I'm hating this guy, and I'm enjoying him glaring at me as I won't let him merge in. But eventually I realize that I'm being childish, and I let him in. He gives me the finger. I laugh. We go forward another hundred yards or so, and we get to another part of the exit where another road is merging in. The driver in front of my new Bowhunting friend is the timid type, and is getting spooked by all the Escalades that keep merging at the last second. This is pissing off the Bowhunter. He keeps throwing his hands up, and while I can't read sign language, I'm pretty sure those hand gestures mean "Stop letting people in, being nice is for fags!"

Finally he gets so mad that he tries to drive BACK OUT into the merge lane to go around the slowpoke. He gets halfway out into the lane and has to stop, because his brethren won't let him into the merge lane because they're too goddamn busy trying to cut in front of the slowpoke in front of us. Now he is really pissed, and he has turned completely around in his seat to watch the merge lane for a chance to go around the slowpoke. But dumbass doesn't realize that slowpoke has finally moved. Since I can see it, I hit the gas and try to drive around Bowhunter by squeezing into the opposite shoulder. He sees what I'm doing and goes apoplectic. There is NO FUCKING WAY he is going to let me in, buddy. Don't even think about it, pal! We get into another merge war, and at this point his car is close enough to reach out and touch. I look up, and he's rolling down his window to scream at me. He's pointing and making a fist. He is going to KICK MY ASS!

I'm really laughing now, but I'm also getting angry. I can appreciate that he is a fucktard, but the Chickenhawk in me is feeling like a fight. Thankfully cooler heads prevail and I let him in. He continues to glare at me in the rearview mirror, and I get my revenge by blowing him kisses. This shuts him up, blowing kisses at guys is for fags! Have I just stumbled on the perfect way to beat these guys? I used to wish I had a fake badge to hold up when guys get all roadragey. But could it really be true that all I have to do is play on their raging homophobia?