The Person I am Next Escaped the Long Arm of the Law

I’m next to this guy. He is a bigger guy with unruly bright red hair, and what I believe is referred to as a neckbeard, also unruly. He has a blue Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned over a bright blue t-shirt with the Linux penguin on it. He has cargo shorts, high grey socks, and some worn out but comfy looking sneakers on. He is pale. Not a cool, mysterious, and possibly a child of the night pale, but a pasty, works too much, and definitely child of the neon office light pale.

This guy looks annoying. I don’t like to be general while being pejorative, I prefer a pointed barb. But a wide shot is what’s going on today. He has some undefinable aura that oozes from him that almost physically pushes me back. Pure annoyance. But I persevere, surely this (probably) human repulsion dynamo will give me something, and he does. This man-thing is a criminal!

“Fucking five-o, keep pulling me over.”

While blithely ignoring how silly it sounds when he says ‘five-o’, he relates to some buddies that he has been pulled over 5 times in the past month. Running red lights, stop signs, possibly people over. The last time he was doing 75 in a 25. Triple speed.

Then he complains about it. The phrases, “What right does he have” and “I was being targeted,” exit him.

This chump is trying to lump his traffic ticket in with some grandiose statement about the police state. What right does the officer have to target this white dude careening down the road at triple murder speed willfully never stopping? A goddamn reasonable one. This isn’t a social justice issue, this is a “you are going fast enough to kill people with tons of metal’ issue.

He carries on in this fashion, ranting about fairness and such until one of his friends asks how much the ticket costs him. “Oh, I didn’t get one, the guy gave me a warning.”

At this point I died, that’s it goodbye forever.

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