Bad Day

Only time will tell, but I suspect the great debate will be why I had a rock in my car in the first place, but I'll leave that as an exercise for the readers and critics. What I did with the rock is far more interesting than why I had it.

I guess it's best to start earlier today, though, I guess in a technical sense, it was actually yesterday. Nothing specific about the early portions of the day were any worse than most other days of the sort, it just happened to last a great deal longer than it should have.

Bad moods are self-perpetuating in a way, so everything could really be seen as my fault in the end. I needed to stop by an ATM and deposit some money, but, being in a foul mood, I found myself a little inattentive. Mind you, in the city it is a good idea to lock one's car, even when leaving it for no more than five or ten minutes; that having been said, it's also a very good idea to turn off one's car and remove the key before locking all of the doors. Certainly my inattention is to blame and my foul mood is to blame for that, but then when one finds that a roadside assistance response estimate of thirty to forty-five minutes is, in actuality, far closer to one and a half hours, foulness has a way of growing.

With displeasure firmly on my side, I decided to enter into parlance with famine. Famine, not being one to curry my favor, was told to come back another time and I passed through one of your standard fast food restaurants for a thing to sate myself with. Fast food is an edible thing when it has to be so, but it is not gourmet and there is little care involved in its preparation; and, for the strong affection of whatever deity one might choose to worship, no pickles means no pickles. There is one big problem with drive-thrus, if they mess up your order you have to decide whether to turn around and return it or just accept the mistake and suffer through the unpleasantness that is undesired pickles. Being that highways are hard to reverse direction on, I decided to live with the unholy abominations that were the pickles on my pickle-free burger.

There are of course, different types of highway, and my particular brand at the time was the undivided, two lanes on each side variety. The biggest problem with roads that allow opposing traffic to pass directly by each other is not that the relative vehicle speeds will reach well above one hundred miles per hour, but that, at night, headlights will shine directly into the eyes of those that oppose you. Even more unfortunate is that many people will see themselves on a highway with no traffic ahead of them and assume that they can use their high beams indiscriminately. There is no way to avoid oncoming traffic's high beams and they are used quite commonly when one is trying to get home at such an abominable hour.

You will surely understand when I tell you that I found myself rather displeased and wanting to reach home as quickly as possible, which is the sort of view that tends to lead one to drive at a slightly heightened velocity. There are, of course, individuals that do not like it when you drive at heightened velocities and then will come at you with lights ablaze and sirens wailing until they have driven you to the side of the road. These men (or women, I do not mean to belie any chauvinism), officers of the law, always approach in the same manner.

"License and registration, please."

By this point I had long since given up on anything good coming from this abominable day and I proffered up the requested identification.

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going back there?"

It's always the same routine; I've seen it before. "Officer, I have had a hideous day and it continues to get worse. I was obviously driving above the speed limit, could you just give me the ticket, allow me to go home and just let me get some sleep?"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of your car."

"I have had a really horrible day and just want to let it end. Please, just give me the ticket so that I may return home. I fear that, should I get any angrier, with you being an officer of the law, I might make things a great deal worse for myself."

"Step out of the car sir."

And that's when I did it; I smashed his face in. I never really understood how it was that paper can beat rock in metaphorical combat, but I can now tell you that I intimately understand how rock is able to defeat flesh, bone and grey matter in a pragmatic competition.

It didn't seem like a good idea at the time, although that often makes a good excuse for just about anything one regrets after the fact. That having been said, I don't really regret it that much, I suspect other people will find it a more regretful event than I. You'll excuse me if I give things a break for now and catch up on my rest; the day has been long and mostly unpleasant. With luck, by tomorrow, I will have sufficiently put all of this behind me to let me move on to another, hopefully better, day.