I hate L.A. drivers (and I'm Asian)

by Katie


I work about 15 miles from where I live. And because I live in L.A. I commute over an hour to get there every morning. An hour is a long time and by using my time effectively I have made some observations about the people who commute in this city.

The Slackers Like The Weekends

On any given Wednesday, traffic is particularly jammed. My theory is that because on any given Monday or Friday, slackers call in sick. Slackers, aside from having the inability to wake up before noon, are also mentally lazy. They don't think that their managers would be suspicious of a head cold that happens to strike on Friday before Mardi Gras. Right. And your manager's nametag says "Shit For Brains, Manager" on it because he ISN'T making all that much more than you per hour. He gets paid the same as your sorry ass to commute to the Wherehouse on Mondays and Fridays. Sure he makes my commute all that much worse, but hey, at least he's not a dipshit who lies about being sick but comes in on Tuesday morning smelling like weed and Aqua Teen Hunger Force re-runs.

Acronymphos

QX56s, X5s, RXs, H2s, SUVs, SUVs, SUVs. People who get all high and mighty in their 9ft. tall sports-utility vehicles can beat it. These SOBs sit on their thrones, 3 feet higher than the rest but no, they're not satisfied. They're eating exotic oranges, spiced meats and shitting in their LV colostomy bag while they zoom past you with the force of God and all that is holy while your puny piece of shit sedan gets rocked, literally, back and forth by the displaced wind. WTF? These are the same people who complain about the rain and how it makes their commute SOOOOOO much longer. Cry me a fucking river. A few sprinkles on the windshield in this city and normal people are having their engines flooded but they don't complain. The puddles on the 10 are deeper than your heated indoor pool, Ms. Zellweger and I'm sorry that your SUV isn't high enough so that you can see the entire length of the 5 freeway and that they don't make an SUV that comes with robotic legs so that you can just climb around the minions that make up your movie-going audience. Oh yeah, and BTW fatty, you look like you've gained a little weight... Bridget Jones 3?

Girls on Phone

No, this isn't the song by Duran Duran. This is my grievance with girls who yap on their metallic pink cellphones with the little jangly doodads hanging off of them. How do I know they have jangly doodads? Well, we can be in bumper to bumper traffic and as I am surveying the madness that is the 405, I can stare for as long as I want to at the girl who isn't moving forward. No, she's on the phone with her roommate, rehashing her date with that guy she met at Arsenal. She doesn't move forward, she lets an open pocket form in her lane and the next thing you know, I'm back a quarter mile while everyone else has swooped in to fill the void in front of her Jetta. And what's worse is that she's so goddamn excited and happy. If I see someone talking on the phone and they're crying or say, missing some teeth, I don't mind as much because I feel for them. The poor people are stuck in this horrendous traffic AND they have bad shit goin' down. I will pull over and hug those people. Girls on phone get the ICY glare and a long-ass honk from this bitch.

Illiteracy Slows 101

How long does it take to read the following: CHILD ABDUCTION 86 GRY TOY CMRY LIC PLT 4HGP583? Well, if you're an unfortunate alumnus of the California Public School system, then long enough back up the 101 from Winnetka to Normandie. If you're not, then about 9 minutes if you include the time it takes to A) think about how fucked up a child abduction is, B) think about why they use those expensive orange signs to notify people of a child abduction as opposed some other egregious crime, C) get over the fact that TOY stands for TOYOTA and not "toy" and then how annoying it is that your brain won't let that go, D) try to remember what an '86 Camry looks like, E) try to remember the license plate 4HGP583 which inevitably leads to F) creating a mnemonic device to help you remember 4HGP583 (4 fingers on my right hand, HGP huge granny panties, 583, May 1983 when I lost my virginity to Adam Mendoza in his brother's LeSabre, yeah that's it. Fuck ROYGBIV. I'm a crime fighter now.)

Rich White Men and Black Women Don't Give a Shit

You thought Asian people were bad, well, I'll get to that.. but white guys in expensive cars and black women in expensive cars DO NOT GIVE A SHIT. They worked hard to buy that car and they will drive OVER you if they have to. Wherever it is they're going, office in Beverly Hills or strip club in the Valley (3900 Lankershim Blvd., ask for Sapphire) they need to get there 20 minutes ago and you are just another lily pad in their Frogger driving game. Don't know what it is about ostentatious European luxury cars that draws them near but, I guarantee that if you see Jamitha driving a 750i, she's gunning it down Laurel Canyon, taking the big turns at 58 mph. Barry isn't far behind in his all midnight-blue CLK. He's rockin' out to Modest Mouse because at the last staff meeting, they went over the results of the focus group and he was told that most viewers between the ages of 18-23 "very moderately agree to extremely agree" that Modest Mouse is "exceptionally enjoy."

Asian People Don't Give a Shit

The worst thing about Asian people and I mean, not just in their driving but in their lives in general, is that they just don't give a fuck. Yes, this personality trait is like that of the Jamithas and Barrys of Los Angeles, but if Jamitha saw a fish head, she wouldn't be thinking about lunch. Asian people don't care about convention or health warnings and they sure as hell don't give two fucks about who goes first at the stop sign. If they want to go, they go. They drive like they walk, meandering back and forth in the direction of whatever shiny object catches their eye. Did someone THROW AWAY that half of a hubcap on the side of the road? What a waste! I'm going to stop and pick it up. Dad, what are you doing? You can't pull over here... Which reminds me, the only thing worse than Asian drivers, is old Asian drivers. They can't read the signs because they can't see, oh shit, I mean they don't see English or numerals. In the cat-and-mouse game of driving, old Asian people are june bugs. Speed limit? No, speed "suggestion." They buzz around, alternating between going really fast and really slow, knocking into screen doors and falling dazed but unphased to the ground only to get back up and merge right into my fucking lane HEY this isn't a back road along the Mekong lady, TAKE THE GODDAMN BUS TO SANTA ANA AND GET OFF THE FUCKING ROAD oh oh oh WHAT MA, you got somethin' to say say it to my face... SO WHAT IF I CAN'T FIND A BOYFRIEND, you can't even make it DOWN THE DRIVEWAY without hitting something with your car...of course you didn't see him, DAD WAS CROUCHED DOWN TRYING TO FIX THE HUBCAP.

So I'm thinking...I can't just go on and on about bad drivers without offering some sort of solution to the problem. In a word: vodka. I don't advocate driving under the influence, but at the end of a long day of dodging these fucks on the road on the way home from the office, I find that vodka in a shatterproof bottle and a large bologna sandwich on multi-grain bread really takes the edge off. But please, drink responsibly.






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