Today I incurred the wrath of a school bus driver. It was one of those four lane roads and we were approaching an intersection at which the light was red, so I was slowing down. She put her yellow flashers on, and I was half way past the length of the bus so I continued, rather than lurching to a halt (and toppling the 23 gallons of paint that Mr. Gadget, unbeknownst to me, did not see fit to remove after our shopping trip this weekend, and for which I’d already had to stop once and rearrange after one large 5-gallon drum had toppled over with a frightening thud, upon navigating the corner of our cul-de-sac, thus making me yet a little more late for my afternoon appointment, and of course he wasn’t answering his phone when I called to berate him. Luckily, the lids remained intact and no paint spilled.)
Flashing yellow means yield, proceed with caution or prepare to stop (as far as I know, but I’m a bit fuzzy on the school bus traffic rules on four lane roads). I decided to proceed with caution. Apparently, the bus driver thought I should stop, because she laid on the horn and blared it at me for a good long time, while she put on the red lights and extended the stop sign. Of course I would have stopped immediately if she had flashed the red lights in preparation of stopping, but she seemed to flash the red lights at the same time that she extended the stop sign. I think she was too busy honking at me to coordinate her signals. Or something. Then, when she resumed, she made a point to pull up and stop along side me, hang her head out the window and glare at me. I ignored her. Or at least tried to. I just can’t handle people yelling at me. It’s one of those things that reduces me to a quivering and useless blob of gelatinous mush. It makes me sick in the pit of my stomach. It completely ruins me. And of course, being the well-grounded adult that I am, I feel like shouting at her. Battleaxe.
The last thing in the world that I want to be is self-absorbed and irresponsible, yet that is quite possibly how I behaved in choosing to proceed with caution. I’m the one who annoys everyone else by driving the posted speed and using my turn signals, even when leaving my own driveway. I’m the one who drives 20 in the school zone and gets passed by impatient drivers. When they glare and pass, I don’t so much care. They’re idiots anyway. But in this case, I probably should have stopped. I mean, we’re talking about a school bus and about children. Good grief, there should be no question. Even so, it has nearly ruined my day, and now I’m a ridiculous mess because of it.
Of course, I can always blame it on Mr. Gadget, thus transferring these ugly feelings away from myself. Never mind that he wasn’t there. Those 23 gallons of paint clouded my judgement.
And maybe, just maybe, blogging about it will help me let it go, and the world can be a bit better off. At least, Mr. Gadget will. Nothing excuses, me, really. We’re talking about children, when it comes down to it. If my own beautiful boy were on a big yellow school bus, I would very much want all traffic to conform to the utmost in safety.
Here he is, a beautiful boy who will thankfully be spared the riding of big yellow school buses for a few more years. And there she is, his self-absorbed and temporarily irresponsible mother, reflected in his eye.
