There are certain times of day or, more precisely, certain times of night when it’s fairly safe to assume that the idiot driver up ahead is a minimum of 2.5 sheets to the wind. Normally, 4:55 pm is not one of those times. But there I was, tramlining down I-44, just west of I-35, at a speed more or less equal to everyone else’s, and after the backlog had cleared, in front of me was a ketchup-colored SUV signaling left.
From the left lane.
Okay, fine. Forgot to turn off the blinker. Even people who don’t drive Buicks occasionally do that.
And then he slid over to the right. Not actually into another lane, mind you: just over to the right.
At some point he decided that this was a Bad Idea, and came back over to the left lane and then suddenly hurled himself across two lanes. By now, everyone had seen him and slowed down. Back he came to the left; again, he straddled two lanes; lather, rinse, repeat. If he tries that around Broadway Extension, I thought, he’s deader than Mubarak’s retirement plan.
He did indeed try that around Broadway Extension, and he survived. Fortunately, I was exiting at Classen and would be spared the unwinding of this tale.
He exited at Classen, the bastard.
I swore, briefly but vividly. I toyed with the idea of calling Edna’s and suggesting they not serve this guy, inasmuch as he was already drunk. He didn’t, however, head for Edna’s, and I ducked my way into the left-lane turnoff toward Classen Grill and stopped for the red light.
And in the center lane, he stopped for the red light, which didn’t apply to him. I have no idea what he was thinking and don’t want to know. As I doubled back down the west side of the Circle, he was moving on, turn signal still blinking left. Presumably he ended up on the Northwest Distressway, in which case services will be held early next week.