Thank Goodness Today's Going to Get Better Around Noon

I've been away from work for four days, so it was a bit of a mental struggle to get myself out of bed this morning and head into the city with the small fry in tow. Add to it a dusting of snow on top of the foot we got over the weekend, and people were bound to be idiots on the road. This I was prepared for.

Beacon Hill is a lovely neighborhood with narrow brick sidewalks and charming gas lanterns. When it snows, the streets and sidewalks are picturesque, but they do become rather treacherous, due to drifts, ice, and mountains of snow from plowing and cleared cars. It make navigating a sturdy stroller a challenge, and often forces the stroller set out onto the narrow streets in spots where the sidewalk is unpassable. That was the case this morning, and I was prepared for it.

I stopped at an intersection, waited for a car to come down the street, and when it was clear, I started up the street, moving as quickly as the slush allowed, in case another car appeared. Technically, a car and a stroller can both go down the one way street, but both have to hug the opposing sides to make room. Enter the giant SUV. The old man kept coming at me, not moving over at all, forcing me into a snowbank with my stroller, and then stopped, leaving me now choice but to shove my two foot wide stroller through a foot wide space between a three foot high snowbank and his Land Rover. He just glared at me, as though he expected me to levitate over the snowbank into the too narrow sidewalk to my right. That or back up and walk an extra five minutes around the block. When it was obvious he wasn't going to budge, I decided to shove my way along the snow bank. As I pushed, I slipped, and fell into his car. It was loud, but I guarantee my shoulder hurt more than his car did.

I'll admit that here, nursing a sore shoulder, I yelled, "Thanks, jackass!" at the scowling old man behind the wheel. I shoved the stroller the rest of the way clear and kept going.

What happened next was ridiculous. As I hauled myself off to the turn to work, he backed up after me, rolled down the window and yelled, "Come back here, f*cker!" Ok, really? I did the super mature thing. I kept walking, and silently flipped him off over my shoulder.

On such a happy day for so many, this little raincloud seemed particularly stupid. How could someone be that angry about thirty seconds of waiting, or six inches of roadway? Who would let such a tiny inconvenience turn into something curseworthy? (Me, apparently, but in my defense it was reactionary and pre-caffeine...) Maybe he was a Republican?