Recently, Pittsburgh was named the city with the most courteous drivers in the country.  I don’t know who these reporters interviewed, or what routes they were driving, or at what time of day, but I nearly choked on my coffee when I heard this.

I’ve driven in other parts of the country, in both big cities and small towns, and I certainly couldn’t disagree more.  Atlanta is a mess pretty much 24 hours a day, and trying to merge for the first time in that city is enough to give you an 80 mph heart attack.  But you can merge there.  People seem to understand road signs a lot better in other cities than here in Pittsburgh.  They don’t slam on the breaks when approaching a tunnel (”OMG…. TUNNEL!  Must… slow… down…. Mountain might cave in on me!”), and they generally don’t stop at a yield sign–which, by the way, makes me absolutely nuts! If you were meant to stop there would be a STOP  sign!!  Even considering the size of places like Atlanta, Chicago, and New York City, the actual practice of driving in those places is far less frustrating than here in Pittsburgh.

The article talks about how Pittsburghers don’t talk or text while driving as much as folks in other cities.  It talks about how nice Pittsburghers are to let folks merge into lanes.  Pittsburghers don’t tailgate (no, we’re not talking before a sporting event here, though I bet we’d definitely rank in the top 3!), it says.  And Pittsburghers don’t “drive too fast…”

I’m sorry, I just don’t see it. 

Every day my experience in Pittsburgh rush hour traffic negates this study.  I see people screaming at each other, tailgating, horn blowing in anger, rude gestures not just lifted inside the car, but extended out the window for the entire line of traffic to see, and people in such a hurry to get wherever they’re going that they brazenly ignore traffic etiquette, laws, and road markings just to get one car length ahead.

I get road rage.  I can admit it.  And the blatant rudeness of people on the road can lead to some serious bouts of jaw clenching TMJ episodes.  See?  Road rage = TMJ.  I can’t tell you how often I have waited along the 10th street bypass to merge onto the Fort Pitt Bridge, in line like most other people, only to have some jerk fly past everyone in the other lane just to get to the part of the roadway where drivers have to let him in.  This seriously pisses me off.

I don’t let those people in.  I won’t.  No.  No, no.  You don’t get to just line jump like that.  What makes you think getting to your destination is so much more important than my desire to get to mine?  No.  I waited in line like everyone else; I followed the rules, and you do NOT get to just jump ahead.  It’s rude.  Your time is no more important than mine, and it’s insulting when people think this is appropriate driving behavior! And it happens every day!  I’ve been guilty of yelling at these rude people, and of laying my hand on the horn long enough for people to think it’s broken.  I’ve also been the recipient of quite a few angry shouts and horn blares because I refused to let these people cut in line. 

Look, I don’t care if your selfish tactics have now caused you to hold up traffic behind you.  I’m not letting you in.  You can receive the anger of dozens of cars behind you, all beeping and cursing you out because I would rather hear that noise for 10 minutes because I refused to let you sneak in in front of me, than allow you to slide in and metaphorically slap every person who does follow the rules in the face.  Including me.

So be forewarned.  If you’re one of these drivers, and you think you’re being shifty and slick by riding the burm to jump line, or riding along the side lane to the very last opportunity for you to sneak in, you had better hope I’m not the one who’s beside you.  Y’ain’t gettin’ in, sugar.  And if the people behind me want to let you be a big cheater and line jumper…. fine.  Just know that I’m silently judging you, and that I’m praying that every other driver behind me feels the same way and you sit there until you’re forced to continue on the wrong road and go 20 miles out of your way just because you’re self centered.  If I could summon police cars to pull you over, I would.  In a minute.

But for now, I’m left sitting in my car yelling compliments instead of expletives.  Think about that… “YOU HAVE VERY NICE TEETH!” or “YOUR JACKET IS VERY FLATTERING!!!”  Ridiculous, right?  Try it some time… it’ll make you laugh.  And in traffic, I need to laugh, otherwise my jaw will lock and I’ll be reduced to trying to melt you with my mind.  And we really don’t want that, now do we?

“Line jumping is cause for removal from the park!”

I can understand the connection we all have to technology these days.  Hell, I destroyed my last phone because I left it on “vibrate” on a shelf balancing precariously over a tub of soapy water while doing dishes.  I can even understand not having enough time in the day to do everything you need to do, or talk to everyone you need to talk to, so you squeeze that call in whenever you can.  But really, is it absolutely necessary to talk on the phone while going to the bathroom in a public restroom?

Not only is that just… wrong in general… it’s incredibly rude to both the person on the phone with you and anyone else who might happen to be in that bathroom at the same time you’re having a marathon conversation.  And that person usually ends up being me.

The fact that you don’t seem to care that the person on the other end hears you doing your business, or anyone else’s, doesn’t bother me so much as the fact that you assume that people around you are going to be courteous while you hold said conversation.  Nay, you expect people to be courteous!

No.

No, no, no no no!

When you glare at me for turning on the sink to wash my hands, or for activating the automatic hand drying, thus interrupting your all important phone call, it makes me want to rip that phone from your hand and drop it in a toilet!  Don’t expect other people to keep quiet and be courteous when you have chosen quite possibly one of the single most inappropriate locations for a phone call there is!

When I stood there today and watched you give me a look of death for washing my hands while you were still chatting, I felt bad.  I felt like I was being rude.  Like I was being inconsiderate.  Then it occurred to me that it wasn’t me at all, but you!  What right do you have to make anyone else using a public facility properly feel bad?  When did that become your personal office?  When did you take control of a bathroom just by being in it?  And rather than turn around and tell you those things, or say, “Sorry, if you wanted a private conversation, maybe you shouldn’t be on the phone in a bathroom…” I went back to my office and tried not to be annoyed by the selfishness you exhibited. 

I came to the following conclusions:

A.  You’re rude.

B.  You have no dignity.

C. Your utter lack of the understanding of proper, respectful behavior in social groups makes me angry.  If I can adhere to them and not be reminded that talking about guys at the club this weekend is inappropriate, then so can you.

D.  If you know that it’s inappropriate and you just don’t care but assume everyone should bow down and kiss your shoes, that makes me even angrier, ’cause honey, those ratty-ass things just don’t warrant kissin’!

So I’ll make a deal with You…

Leave your phone in your pocket, or keep your conversations to another outdoor space, and I’ll go about my business as politely as any person in a shared community facility should be.

But the next time You are in the bathroom talking on the phone, the little white frilly “polite” gloves come off.  I’m going to flush every toilet I can get to.  Twice.  I’m going to start singing “I Will Survive” at the top of my lungs, and I’m going to make as much racket as possible washing my hands.  If I’m wearing heels, I’ll pretend I’m Ginger Rogers and tap as loudly, and badly, as possible!  I may even break out into a vignette from “Stomp!”  Maybe you’ll get the picture. 

Who knows, the outburst of energy might do me some good!  I daresay my doctors would approve of me expressing my irritation rather than bottling it up and storing that converted stress into jaw spasms. 

……”At first I was afraid…. I was petrified….”……