Redneck Romance on I-30

So I was called to meet a friend after work yesterday, which entailed sitting through ridiculous traffic on Interstate 30 to get there. Now, the total mileage is only about 12 miles, but it took me a whopping 52 minutes to arrive alive. Most of the time, traffic doesn't bother me. I lived in Los Angeles, and so traffic is just a way of life. You don't measure your destination in miles, but time in the car. Anyway, the traffic was stop and go, and Texas drivers, while friendly for the most part, are also very aggressive. Plus, you add the big rigs into the equation, and you've got some major clusterfuck going on. So I was alternately hitting the gas and riding the brake when we came to a complete stop in my lane (middle of 3 total), and so I'm singing my heart out to my Culture Club Greatest Hits CD (I think we've established I'm a fan from waaayy back). Now I have been known to point and sing to other motorists simply because it feels like you should do that. I know when it happens to me, it makes me feel special, and so I like to return the favor as often as possible (read: every time I'm in the car). I'm really getting into "Church of the Poison Mind" when the motorist on my left drives even with me. Although it's not uncommon to see 1988 Ford Broncos with huge tires and a lift kit full of rednecks and confederate flag decals, I was all into my serenade and made the mistake of turning to my left. And that's when it happened. *The lovely young man in the passenger seat with his mullet, t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, "I love my Momma" tattoo, gun rack, and two teeth waved at me. Not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to encourage actual interaction with the Redneckmobile, I just turned, pointed in recognition of the friendly wave, and kept singing, turning my head back to the road ahead. Then I hear a honk. I decide my best course of action is to ignore it and keep on with my singing with the Boy. Then the honking becomes more persistent. So I make the mistake of looking left again. I'm greeted with another wave and the "V with tongue". You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Anywho, I again decided that the best course of action was to ignore, ignore, ignore. Rednecks are much like children, and so if you ignore their attention-seeking behavior, it will most often cease. Not so in this situation. There was more honking, some yelling of obscene acts he wanted to perform upon me, and revving of the engine. At this point, I must acknowledge that I hear him/them, and I swallow the little bit of vomit that has backed up in my throat and roll up my windows...all four of them. (Thank the Lord in heaven that they are dark tinted windows!) However, these were persistent rednecks, and so I tried in vain to change into another lane, but my desperate signal was ignored by my fellow motorists. Alas, for a whopping 25 minutes of my 50 minute trip, I was sexually harrassed by my redneck admirers. I had to eject the Boy and try some other kind of music because they had ruined it for me. I finally decided on the heaviest music I had in the car: Metallica. Loud, brash, and able to drown out redneck advances in any situation...that's my Metallica (plus, I'm strangely attracted to James Hetfield because he seems a little dangerous). Alas, rocking out to the "...And Justice for All" CD, I was mostly able to tune out Jethro and his Uncle Daddy. When the traffic opened up, I risked yet another speeding ticket and laid tread to the speed of about 85mph. When I finally arrived at my destination, I had an overwhelming urge to shower, but since the bar didn't have a shower, I was forced to delay that action for a few more hours. I seriously wanted to snap a picture, but I was afraid they would follow me and abduct me to parts unknown.

So that is the story of my Redneck Romance. If you are a Redneck reading this, please take offense you disgusting shitbag bastard! This is why you have to marry your "uppity" cousin with her 5 teeth and 4th grade education. Blegh.

*You might realize that I have an eye for detail. I am not making any of this shit up because even now, 24 hrs after the fact, I threw up a little in my mouth.