I wrote this a while ago but hadn’t posted it before..so here goes
It always begins as almost every other begins. After a few frantic minutes of “has anyone seen my keys” or “my phone is missing”, I get into my car puffing and panting like a steam engine pulling an overly burdensome load. I ought to stop colour coordinating my handbags with my outfits and have just one bag where nothing will ever go missing and I could leave for work on time. Instead I’m speeding the car up the ramp from the basement garage to the gate- my faithful steed wheezing like an asthmatic goat, woken up suddenly from peaceful slumber.
We reach the gate and wait to take the left turn to join the flow of traffic on a not-so-busy road. However this is one of those stunts that like in reality TV look very easy to do but are impossible to pull off. I wait- the seconds ticking on the digital clock in the dashboard. I fidget, I fumble around with my phone and that constant stream of traffic does not stop. Every one of those motorists knows that I’m trying to join the stream, but nobody wants to let me get ahead of them. Instead of slowing down, they speed up anxious not to be the “loser” who actually stopped for a fellow motorist.
Unable to wait any longer I slowly begin to inch ahead- one would think that would make them slow down- but they begin to make arcs around my car bonnet- like how ants run when you put your finger in their path. Just as I see a window of opportunity a pedestrian steps across the way trying to waltz with my car. I brake, he stops. I start, he walks. At this point I’m fuming but being politically correct I wave the pedestrian across- he looks almost as angry as I am. Insulted I suppose that I broke off the dance too quickly.
The steady stream of motor bikes, cars, tuk tuks and all manners of contraptions on wheels continue to stream past me. In a fit of anger and resignation I surge ahead. And immediately a burst of angry honks rain down on me. Angry hand gestures are passed around- I am angry enough to want to hit every one of them with a plastic fly swatter. But victory is mine and I am now driving to my destination.
I hate having to go through this ritual almost every morning- Sundays and public holidays being the exception, not that people are in a more forgiving mood- just that there aren’t enough of them on the road.
But that is not the end of the story. Once on the road, I spy a car trying to peep out of a gate, like a roach with only its antennae out from a crack in the wall. After all I’ve been through it would be right of me to stop. Instead I step on the gas pedal. And that, ladies and gentlemen is what I hate the most!














