commentary by B. D. POE
I always drive carefully after having a few drinks. As a card carrying, flag waving member of DAMM (Drunks Against Mad Mothers), I was out bar hoppin' - making my rounds at Happy Hour anticipating lots of fun watching the Budweiser clock spin around and around. Traffic was building up and I couldn't wait to park it up against the next watering hole. Heck, my buzz from the last three rounds was demanding refreshment. Two lanes over on my right, a middle aged woman in a maroon mini-van, with a " my kid's an honor student" bumper sticker, chatted away on a cell phone glued to her ear. Suddenly she decides, from two lanes over, that she's just got to be in my lane . With no signal and still yammering away, she nearly side swiped me! Thank Gawd my keen reflexes and alertness allowed me to brake allowing the maroon mini-van to swerve in front of me. The woman continued into a left hand turn oblivious to me and my obscene gestures with the darn cell phone stuck to her ear yapping away! "Get me to the bar quick," I thought to myself checking my watch and hoping not to miss dollar off drinks. At the bar was the usual crowd of blue collar workers, office people, salesmen and economically disadvantaged alcoholics. I sparked up a Doral and ordered a Simpson, a trendy screwdriver made with 2 shots of Absolute Citron, cracked ice, O.J., a skewered piece of fresh pineapple on one of those little plastic swords and rimmed with Kosher salt Margarita style. The Budweiser clock spun around and told me I might have time for one more at a dollar off providing I drank quickly. A lady seated next to me complained about my cigarette smoke so I relocated next to a sharply dressed business man who was chatting away about Tiger Woods and the results of the latest golf tournament. Suddenly a phone rang. The sharply dressed man picked up a cell phone and started conducting some sales deal right there in the bar. He assumed an air of importance and issued forth instructions over the phone. I gave the bar maid an inquisitive look as I motioned for a refill. "This is his other office, his office away from the office" she giggled piercing a pineapple piece. On and on the sharply dressed man dictated his directives over the phone. I sucked hard on my Simpson. Across the bar, the non-smoking lady reached into her bag, produced her cell phone and made a call. I thought about how I'd rather talk in private over the phone -not in public for everyone to hear. I finished my drink, leaned toward the sharply dressed man and said " buy low - sell high." I left the bar called "Race Time" and thought maybe they should call it "Phone Time" instead. Back behind the wheel, I carefully navigated my way towards the grocery store ever watchful for mini-vans, chatty Kathys and blue lights. Of course it was the worst time of the day to go food shopping. The store was busy and as usual there were only half as many check out girls on duty as necessary . Rounding the corner of an end cap I suffered a major collision with a 300 pound woman in a purple paisley shower curtain looking affair, slouched over, butt in the air, leaning on the handle pushing the cart with one arm and yammering away on a cell phone with the other. I recoiled from the impact and checked for whiplash. She gave me a dirty look and continued talking into the phone. I'd had enough. "Get off the damn phone, stand up straight, use both hands and watch where your going" I seethed with aggravation. "Who do you think you are telling me what to do?" she said scrunching her face into a snooty cross eyed contortion. "Lady, you just rammed me with your cart because your mother never taught you good posture or how to act in the store!" I raged suggesting that if her cart were anally inserted she might stand up straight then. "Oh don't you threaten me. You're on drugs! I'm calling the police." She sneered fumbling around with the phone. I made my getaway, without any groceries and left the scene of the accident. Reeling with Hunger pangs and acid indigestion from the Simpsons, I made my way to the nearest Diner where I was relegated to my choice of coffee, tea, or soda. Sadly, what I really wanted wasn't on the menu and the waitress seemed annoyed at my tiresome flirtations. So I opted for the Cheesy Spanish Omelet and Home Fries. Sipping my coffee I scanned an abandoned newspaper." Legislator Proposes Ban On Driver's Cell Phones" read the article. Now if they could just ban them in all public places I thought. The diner was only half full and it was a peaceful change from its busy, noisy morning atmosphere. Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons provided relaxing background music as the leggy waitress came bouncing back with my dinner. Then across the isle, from a booth within earshot, a phone rang! "Not again!" I said as the waitress placed the plate in front of me. She gave me an inquisitive look. I just shook my head.