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I feel disproportionately happy with myself whenever I do something adulty like buy toothpaste when we’re out or make my own cleaner and mop the kitchen floor. So that was me today, getting the boring things done. I even went back to the pharmacy to get the things I forgot the first time.

The cashier forgot to ring up half the items in my basket. My reflexes don’t even give my conscience half a second to consider whether I should mention it. You forgot these, I blurt out and watch the total go up a whopping $5. Immediately I start thinking of the iced bubble tea or midday sangria that extra $5 would’ve put in my hand on this hot sticky day, valiantly concluding my productivity. Then the angel on my shoulder reasons that since I did a good thing, maybe something really great will come my way.

I stepped out into the street and something really big came my way. An SUV blasting music, the driver talking on her cell phone (illegal) with a whoopsie grin on her face. I jumped back. The car didn’t touch me, my conditioner took a bump but I think it’ll be okay. A cyclist on the bike path fell into the road to avoid getting hit and nearly got run over by another car. It looked like SUV Whoopsie Weirdo tried to out run the light and decided to slam on her breaks on the bike path section of the crosswalk instead. Only the light hadn’t just turned. She clearly wasn’t paying attention.

This was one of those times when you feel how shock and rage can occupy the same space at the same time. She wouldn’t even roll her window down, turn down her music or end her phone call as the cyclist came to her driver’s side window saying the only thing there was to say. You almost hit me! 

I wish I could’ve been more useful. The woman wouldn’t even look at him. Her windows were tinted but it looked like there was a kid in the back seat. I stood in front of her car when the light turned green so he could write down the license plate. I thought maybe he could report her plate number to 3-1-1, but he shook his head and said he’d call 9-1-1 as if nearly getting hit is part of his daily ride. Maybe it is. Some New York City drivers are absolutely the dumbest, most reckless drivers. I used to think being on the road with Massholes and the Rhode Island pull out was dangerous, but it doesn’t compare to trying to cross the street in New York City.

The cyclist was correct, by the way. In NYC, call 9-1-1 to report dangerous, reckless driving, including weirdos talking on their phone who nearly hit you. Had the cyclist not been there I would’ve taken the license plate and tried to report it to 3-1-1 after the fact. Calling 9-1-1 takes things to a much more serious level and I’d always rather avoid dealing with police, but these kinds of drivers are bound to hurt someone someday if nobody reports them right away.

I guess it is my lucky day. I didn’t get hit by an SUV. Yay! Maybe it’s time to make a whole pitcher of sangria.