No Mas, Por Favor!

Okay, people, I have to relate what happened on my drive home yesterday. I think I barely escaped with my life! I was almost killed by a drunken Mexican. Now, before you race baiters start flooding my inbox or sic LULAC and La Raza on me, I will explain why he will be referred to as the Drunken Mexican.

First, he had a"Viva Mexico!" sticker on the bumper of his 1960-something Ford Fury. (I really don't know when they made the Fury, but this car was definitely from the 60s in body style)

Next, there were 3 other indicators: blaring music from the Spanish-language radio channel, 2 Virgin Mary statues (one on the dash and the other in the back window), and a sticker in the back window that said, "Everybody loves a Mexican". He was brown of skin as well, although that proves nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Anywho, I commute 45 minutes to and from work, so by the time I'm closer to my house, I'm so ready to get there. So I'm driving down a busy road called Belt Line when I notice this old car weaving a bit. My first thought was that some fucker was on his cell phone trying to text while driving. I really hate that shit, and so as I continued to drive, I started noticing all the adornments to his vehicle. Then, the weaving got rather dramatic...so much so that I had to act quickly to avoid him swiping me. It was then that I had to make a decision: Speed up and risk a ticket from a bored city cop, or stay the course and let Jose Cuervo put me into the wall. Then we came up on a red light. He came to a quick stop...the kind that makes a little tire squeak. As I was thanking Jesus that there were no pedestrians in that crosswalk at that moment, the light turned green, and I hit the gas to get around him. Unfortunately, Johnny Bravo wasn't having it! He punched the gas and continued his drunken weaving along the road. I'm starting to panic because I really need to get over to take the right onto my street. As I continued to check my mirror and slowed down to look for an opening, I was momentarily struck dumb because the Holy Virgin toppled over and bounced out the back window! Holy SHIT! That right there almost caused a 5-car pile-up behind us! I finally regained my senses and slowed down to a crawl to try to get behind him so that I could turn on my street...which was answered by a furious cacophony of foreign and domestic car horns. When I finally did get over, I drove 10 miles under the speed limit to distance myself from the Drunken Mexican. Of course, this was viewed rather odiously by my fellow road travelers. I got 3 fingers and a loud, "Get the fuck out of the way, bitch!" My response was to point and sing. Finally, as I pulled into my garage and turned off the engine, I was sorry that I didn't get a chance to snap a photo. But it was a bit frightening, and so I thought I did the right thing by keeping both hands on the wheel. Who knows?

So, Drunken Mexican, wherever you are, I have just one thing to say: No mas, por favor! No mas!

*He's lucky I was listening to Sugarland and not my Metallica....that's all I'm going to say. And he better go to confession for both his drunken escapade and for throwing the Virgin Mary into traffic. God sees that shit, Drunken Mexican. God sees that shit.