I've Seen That Movie Too

 Week Thirty-seven: I’ve Seen That Movie Too

So keep your auditions for somebody

Who hasn’t got so much to lose

‘Cause you can tell by the lines I’m reciting

That I’ve seen that movie too

— Elton John, I’ve Seen That Movie Too, from Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Whenever I hear a lyric that I might want to use, I compose a draft, which might eventually become an entry. Entries are put at the end of the queue, which means they are prepared weeks ahead of when they are used. With this particular post, I heard Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne and it seemed perfect. I then heard Lunatic Fringe by Red Rider. The line Lunatic fringe I know you’re out there seemed even better based on what I’m about to tell you. But eventually I heard Elton John sing a song I’ve heard many, many times, and I decided that the line I’ve seen that movie too was too good to ignore.

The five most common reasons for road rage are…

• Driving at dangerously high speeds.

• Following another driver too closely (tailgating)

• Honking or swearing at other drivers.

• Aggressively changing lanes.

• Preventing other drivers from merging onto the road.

…but my story doesn’t include any of those.

A while back something happened that seems to stay with me. I think it remains in my thoughts because either I am unhappy with my response, or even more likely that the entire scenario reminded me of my father. I’ll get to the incident in a moment.

My father was difficult. He jumped to conclusions swiftly, and often, quite often throughout his life he confronted people aggressively. He grew up in a tough east Baltimore neighborhood with young men more than willing to prove their virility by fighting. 

Throughout his life he began and finished altercations physically. He beat up an opposing little league manager after words were exchanged at the end of the game. He started and finished a fight on a trans-Atlantic flight. He engaged in a fistfight at a traffic light with another driver who had somehow offended him. Once as he was driving the 12-year old me to my grandmother’s house where I would spend the day, he grew increasingly angry at another driver. His rage consumed him, and although we were four or five blocks from her house, he ordered me out of the car, and he sped off in pursuit.

Despite countless examples of his anger leading to really unsavory episodes, I think the one that sticks out most was during what started out as an innocent drive to the grocery store in Florida where he lived. We were leaving the shopping center and needed to turn right. The car waiting to turn left into the parking lot decided to complete a U-turn instead. To be clear, the woman turning left had a green light to do so. My father, who was turning right, also had a green light. The right-of-way was his. That said, when she completed her U-turn in front of him he exploded, screaming expletives at her. He just couldn’t let it go.

This is the man who reared me. He was a powder keg. I knew that. I have countless examples not all of which involve driving, but what transpired a few weeks ago certainly brought him to mind.

Like him, I have at times allowed my temper to rage. I am easily offended, and very, very confrontational. I once injected myself in a lady fight in a shoe store. Instead of accepting that whatever went wrong between them was none of my business, I wound up holding one of them back while others did the same for her opponent. I stepped between two men in a sports bar when I realized their water was about to boil over. I did the same at a college football game. I am not shy about confronting people especially when I think their behavior could have or should have been better. A few weeks ago I watched a grown man sneaking the use of his vape pen inside a restaurant where I was eating. I waited long enough to make eye contact, shook my head and said, “Please don’t do that here.” He stopped.

Despite my inclination to confront and my familiarity with seemingly grown men who cannot or will not control themselves, my response to the following incident remains inadequate. By any description my response to a scenario I had seen many times was out of character for me. As it unfolded I realized quickly that I had seen that movie too.

To get to my neighborhood from downtown Kernersville, NC I sometimes use Mountain Road. The speed limit starts at a mind-numbing 20 mph, but increases to 35 mph near the elementary school, until it goes to 45 mph near the turn off to my house. Not so long ago on my way home but before I got to the school I noticed the pick up truck behind me was closer to me than I would have liked. By the time I got to the section that allows 45 mph I set the cruise control. By then I could tell the guy driving the truck was agitated. I actually considered pulling off or turning to allow him to go by me, and as it turns out, I sure wish I had.

Forty-five miles per hour couldn’t satisfy him. He was so close to me that I could no longer see his headlights. It didn’t take a clairvoyant to know there was about to be some drama. He pulled into the center turn lane and screamed something at me through the open passenger side window. I naturally slowed to avoid him. He suddenly swerved into my lane immediately ahead of me. I suppose to make sure I knew he was unhappy he slowed to about 20 mph.

I think it was about then that I thought that if he had a gun (and I’m sure he does) he might use it. As coincidence would have it, we were at the entrance to my neighborhood. He turned in. Because I was on my way home, so did I. When he saw that I had also turned he slammed on the brakes and put his truck in reverse. I backed up accordingly, and we wound up perpendicular to each other. With his window wound down he continued to scream at me. I tried to defuse the situation by saying, “Hey now, I meant no harm, I was just going home.”

“No you weren’t! Go the fucking speed limit,” he screamed.

“I was,” I said. (That is only partially true. I did set the cruise control at 45 mph, but by that time he was unhinged.)

“No you weren’t,” again still screaming as loud as I imagine he could.

“Look, I didn’t mean to hold you up,” I added.

“Yes, you did! You’re not sorry!” (He was wrong about that because I was sure if he didn’t use his 9 mm, his shotgun would work just as well.)

Then he said, “You were doing 20 in a 35, and you were doing 35 in a 45.”

Looking back on what was a very unsettling encounter, I suppose I could have said any number of things. Maybe something like “It’s a speed LIMIT, not a mandatory speed.” Or “It’s not up to you how fast or how slow I drive.” I suppose I could have told him that I understand that growing up is difficult, but that I have confidence that even he could…eventually.

I suppose I could have said any number of things that would have made a bad situation a lot worse. Before I could though, he said, “And now you’re following me!” (To be fair, I did turn into the entrance to the neighborhood just behind him.)

“I live here,” was my response.

Honest to goodness, I couldn’t make this up if I tried. He screamed as spit flew, “No you don’t!”

“Actually I do,” I responded in my best elementary school teacher voice.

At this point in the proceedings, all he could manage as a retort was, “Oh so you’re the motherfucker who lives here.” (At least I’m not the motherfucker who became unhinged because someone else  wasn't going as fast as I wanted them to go.)

He quickly pulled his truck next to my car so that our open windows were very close. He reached out pointing toward my dashboard. “See that speedometer?! Use it!” He then backed up and gunned his engine toward my car narrowly missing the front end as he pulled out into traffic heading in the opposite direction from the way we arrived.

I didn’t say it was a good movie, just that I’ve seen it before.

Elton John - I've Seen That Movie Too (Yellow Brick Road 8 of 21)

OZZY OSBOURNE - "Crazy Train" (Official Video)

Red Rider - Lunatic Fringe