fiery red hair and a matching personality
 On my commute to and from work, I drive one of the busiest surface streets in Atlanta: Peachtree Road. This road runs from north Atlanta, all the way through downtown. It's 6 lanes of complete chaos during rush hour. Not to mention the never ending road work, all the bus stops, and little old ladies trying to cross at the light. But since I've been driving this twice a day for almost 2 years, I know it like the back of my hand. I know where the bus stops are, when the buses will be there, when the left lane is going to transform into a left-turn only, when the right lane is going to try to merge, and where all the pot holes are. I usually try to stay in the center lane because in the left lane you end up getting stuck behind those who try to turn left without a light, and in the right lane you get stuck behind the ever present MARTA buses. But no matter which lane you're in, you're not going to get over 25 miles an hour for a good 5 miles or so.
Yesterday was a particularly beautiful day. It's been un-seasonably warm here (jeez global warming!) and I had the windows down, driving home from work. I was in the middle lane, like normal, just truckin' along. All of a sudden this asshole in this ratty old Camaro comes flying up in the right lane beside me. He revs his engine and it makes a horrible noise. Then he slams on his breaks at the last minute, making a squeaking sound. This goes on for about 1/2 a mile. In stop and go traffic. The car in front of him will inch forward, he'll rev his engine loudly and plow forward, only to squeal to a stop 3 seconds later. I pull up next to him at a red light and put my passenger side window down. We make eye contact as I calmly say, "You need to slow down." He glares at me and spits, "Well get out of my fuckin' way you cunt!"
There are a few things that run through my head in this split second. One: I'm not the one in your way. I'm over here, in this other lane. See? And Two: It's not my fault that you're a dumb ass suburban red-neck who doesn't know how to drive in the city.
But instead, I blurt out the first thing that hit my lips, "Your fast car will never make up for what you lack in penis size."
At that moment, I calmly roll the window back up, see an opening to my left and scoot in behind a Honda and leave this poor man to curse to himself while still stuck behind a slow moving dump truck. I got home about 10 minutes later, and sat in my nice cozy little apartment with a drink and my dog at my feet; laughing at the red-headed white trash who was probably still beating his head on the steering wheel in Atlanta traffic.