Kalah Allen

I hear you. We sat at that stop light for what felt like eternity. Waiting, cycle after cycle, as the drivers in front of us failed to promptly go when the light turned green. I began to feel a camaraderie: It was me and you, suffering together. Then it was your turn. It was your opportunity to right the wrongs that had been done to us. The light turned green... and nothing. You too betrayed the courtesy that the motorized public owes each other, and the betrayal was so much worse because of all we had been through together. I wanted to express all of this to you. I wanted to tell you that this is the reason why traffic is so bad in Portland. I wanted to tell you that it’s dangerous to drive while distracted. I wanted to tell you that I had expected more of you. So I honked my horn and yelled, “WILL YOU FUCKING GO?!” I know that by yelling “FUCK YOU!” and flipping me off, you were trying to say that we choose to live in Portland because it is a friendly place. Not the kind of place where we honk horns and scream obscenities. That you, too, were disappointed in me. I’m not here to say either of us is right or wrong. I just wanted to let you know that I heard you.—Anonymous