Dear sir,
How old are you? Come on, out with it. I'd say, early fifties, no? A dad-ish age, huh. Well, I would be quite ashamed of myself if I were you sir. Sitting in traffic leaning on your horn when a construction crew is busy unloading bricks in front of you. It's a one-way street, sir! And oh-my-heaven-forbid that there are other people working when you with your crazy hair and glasses decide to drive your spiffy little honda down Degraw Street. That, sir, should be a crime. Oh! And may I commend you on your excellent critical thinking and communication skills! Firstly, it was so ingenious that you decide to lay on your horn whilst the gentlemen obviously have their hands full of bricks. That really got the point across and didn't end up annoying anybody at all. But your genius laying-on-horn plan failed and so, of course, you go on to plan b. A crutch. You grab a crutch (not two, but one) out of your car and wave it wildly in all the workers' faces. Really? Really. Wow. I guess that did it. I mean, I was laughing watching you outside my window when you finally got your way and how you slammed your little Honda door and angrily buckled your seatbelt and THEN proceeded to hold up everyone behind you by flipping the workers the bird AND saying f-you in sign language--yes I do know that sign (thanks Mr. Holland's Opus.)
Sir, I hope your day ended up just beautifully. And I hope you have a reason to use that crutch--because if you're pretending to be handicapped ON TOP of what you just did. Well. I have no words for you.
Thank you for being oh-so-entertaining, crutch-man.
J
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