I almost hit a woman with my car today.
I pulled into the post office and some woman was standing in the only available spot, talking to another woman parked in the adjacent spot.
I didn’t want to be rude with a typical hitting of the horn, so I just idled there, motionless, with a body length between us.
You’d think the grumbling hole in the muffler would have awakened her to my dangerously close, four thousand pound SVU, but, alas, she didn’t bat a fucking eyelash.
What to do, what to do?
A friendly neighborhood tappity-tap honk?
Rev the engine?
Pin her to the side of the building with my bumper?
Since the post office was closing in five minutes and twenty-three seconds and I really needed to mail something to Los Angeles, I decided to just sit there and wait it out like a passive aggressive asshole.
Miss princess finally figured out that she was on the losing end of a physics equation, so she finally got out of the way.
She offered the I’m sorry wave and once again apologized once we were both inside.
“I went to high school with that woman and now our kids go to high school together.”
To be friendly, I asked her what school.
East Rockaway High School.
I went to the nearby Lynbrook High and I’m not sure why I did, but I heard myself offering her this information.
“Do your kids go there now,” she asked.
I almost turned around like Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver to see if there was someone standing behind me.
How could she be taking to me?
My kids? I’m just a kid myself.
Wait, what’s that you say?
Shit. You’re right.
How in God’s name could this have happened?
Lets review…I remember jumping into the fountain at my college graduation, I blinked a few times, and here I am, innocently in line at the post office.
While everyone else was buying houses, losing their hair and having kids, I was…
I really don’t know what I was doing.
Surviving I guess.
Statistics say that I must have experienced some joy in between, but it definitely wasn’t enough.
I don’t feel, in the moment, that it was enough.
But that’s the price I paid for rocking Status Quo’s cruise ship.
Would I do it again if presented with the same set of choices?
Because I’d be blind to other alternatives.
It’s carve my own path, or perish.
Does this path lead to joy?
I sure as hell hope so.
Regardless, I’ll keep on bringing it to others so I know this long, strange trip hasn’t been in vain.
“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success