I HATE YOU: Guy Driving By With An Air-horn

As many of you dedicated readers know by now, I live in Valley Stream, New York, which is a town on Long Island right outside Manhattan (about 45 minutes on the Long Island Railroad...which has fat ladies whom I hate). Most people who live on Long Island (and especially people who have lived on Long Island all their lives) have a car and enjoy driving said car. I do not (have a car...nor do I enjoy driving said non existent car). This is because I don't spend that much time on Long Island...I live very close to two major train stations thus turning the option of driving a car into one of redundancy (not to mention the pollution driving a car causes).

Also, I don't know how to drive.

Yeah, I know. It's weird. I even took driver's ed. But I just don't know how to drive a car. I wouldn't know what buttons to push or levers to pull to make the thing go forward (let alone parallel park). I actually had nightmares up until recently that I was left in a running car that started to move, which left me powerless and destined for a bloody crash. I'm sure most of you don't have this dream. You probably have nightmares about having to fly a plane or having to seize control of a bus full of people, making sure said bus' speed doesn't drop below 50 mph (lest it explode). You pussies! Flying planes and driving busses are so frickin' easy. It's driving a small sedan that's the challenge...am I right, people?!

So, as I said in many, many words above, I don't drive. I live in a part of New York that's firmly entrenched in America's "Car Culture," and I choose to walk. Most people in my neighborhood treat me with bemused respect as they drive on by. I'll get some smiles and nods, I'll get some smirks. I even get the occasional mocking shout from a hot high school girl. Yes...I am often taunted by schoolgirls. Which is actually pretty cool, when you think of it (I mean, when was the last time a hot high school chick ever said anything to you...that's right...never...even during high school).

I'm absolutely thrilled with this attention. I'm a clown at heart and I just pretend they're laughing with me, not at me. Or, at me, but not in me...hmm.

So jokes, laughing, that's all in good fun and to be truthful, if I was in a car with my friends and I saw me walking down the side of the road, I'd laugh at/with me as well (okay, so it's at). It's a totally understandable reaction to seeing a guy walking down the street either by himself or with his rather hot girlfriend.

But here's what I don't jive with...and here's what makes me start pouring the Hate Juice (or, if you're in training, Haterade): the motherfucker who drives by my girlfriend and me and blasts his fucking air-horn.

This is not even one shade of cool, even once. Air-horns are designed for emergencies and why they're sold to the general public is a mystery we should all investigate.

If you've ever had an air-horn blasted into your ears at close range, you'll agree with me that it hurts. It hurts your ears, then it hurts your brain, then you get a headache that hurts for the rest of the day. Outside of emergencies, air-horns are usually blasted by obnoxious sports fans who want to let even the most distant of TV microphones know that they like their designated sports team. "Go, Sox! EEEEEEEEE!! EEEEEEEEE!!!"

So clearly I don''t appreciate it when this Jeep filled with 30-something douchebags rolls by my girlfriend and I and blasts an air-horn in our faces. Notice how I didn't phrase this in the past tense...that's because these cat vaginas persist in harassing us. I'd call the cops (I'm not a gangster and thus the "No Snitching" code doesn't apply) but these dick heads manage to do the ear-blasting on the darkest of streets in the middle of the darkest hour of night, so I never really can tell what the license plate reads (though I'm sure it's some sort of vanity plate joke that involves how HRD they are) nor can I tell what these cunt towels look like (though one must assume they have pony tails and red ball caps, turned backwards).

Guys (and especially you, Guy Who Actually Fires Off The Air-horn), you're really funny. I'm glad you've found a way to monetize your wit...you DO get paid to drive by and blast people with air-horns, right? Did you remember to at least tape your exploits? No? Oh...well then.

But seriously, dudes...you got me. Several times. You've scared me each time with your air-horn. It'll never stop getting scary. So why don't you stop blasting me? It has to be not funny any more...and one of these days I WILL get a good look at your plate #. And then you're gonna...probably get off with a warning and a ticket. Fucking justice system. I should move to Saudia Arabia. You fucks would be dead by now. Though, so would I...I am a Jew, after all.

Grrrr!