Monday, January 18, 2016

Tales From the Bridge IV

Warning: Rant ahead.

I don't know what it is about me that attracts assholes on the bridge, but where ever I go they seem to follow. I feel like I follow the unwritten rules of crossing. I keep to myself, I don't make eye contact, I don't cut in front of other people, I cross in the appropriate lanes, I don't leave massive amounts of space between my car and the one in front of me, I pay attention.

So why, dear Lord please tell me why, do I even have the occasion to run into so many lunatics while I'm waiting in line? I just want to go to work and then go home as expeditiously as possible and with little to no drama, por favor. Is that so much to ask?

Today's tale starts as I'm on the freeway driving towards the bridge. There is a truck of some sort behind me, riding my ass, even though I am going 50 mph on an exit ramp with a speed limit of 40. At this point, the truck can't pass me, but I'm not comfortable going any more above the speed limit than I already am and risk getting into an accident.

Once we get to where the lines for the bridge begin, I change lanes as soon as possible to let Speed Racer pass me because he is clearly in a hurry. He passes me of course and is now in line in front of me. At this point he rolls his window down and is glaring at me in his side mirror but I do my best to ignore him. I grab my phone and start checking emails. 

Speed Racer continues to glare.

As soon as we pass the US check point portion of the line, he rolls down the rear window of his truck and begins to take pictures of me. Oh God. Here we go with the pictures again... I'm more uncomfortable with this situation than I was with that crazy girl last year because #1 he is a man, #2 he seems genuinely angry with me and I'm not sure why and #3 I am literally about to pop and have some serious mother-bear syndrome going on. I try to call my husband to see what I should do. No answer. I carry on driving, not looking up, and trying not to cry at this point because this man is seriously starting to freak me out.

Once we pass the Aduana he pulls off to the side as if to let me pass and rolls down his window. There is no way in hell that I was going to get in front of this man so I stop my car next to his, roll down my window, and try to grow some balls as I say, "¿Tenemos una problema?"

The man goes on to tell me that I should drive ahead of him. I tell him, in Spanish, that I am not comfortable going ahead of him. I tell him I am not comfortable with his behavior or his picture taking, and that I would just sit there until he drove on. He quickly responds in English that he knows I took pictures of him and that, "if I want to play, we can play." He is also seemingly offended that I've spoken to him in Spanish... you know, in Mexico, but I guess I can never win when it comes to that? Finally he mumbles out some threat about wanting to wait for the police.

Please. I want to say, please call the police. Please call them so that you can explain why you are harassing a pregnant lady who you felt was driving too slow even though she was going over the speed limit. I'm sure they would love that.

I don't say that though. You see I am having a baby in a matter of days and it just so happens that I left work early today with a bit of a blood pressure scare. My last 3 readings have been relatively high so we are on the lookout for any and all signs of preeclampsia. I went to the doctor after experiencing a headache that I couldn't seem to shake and had actually just left their office with orders to take it easy, relax and try not to stress out.

So no, you dumb motherfucker, I don't want to play games. And I'm tempted to tell him just like that. But  instead I simply tell him that I didn't take any pictures, that he clearly lowered his window and took pictures of me and that I don't "want to play." I tell him I am tired and just want to go home.

He eventually speeds off and turns down the same street I would normally turn down. I take the long way home instead and try to stay calm. The drive home consisted of me trying not to cry (unsuccessfully) and staring out my rear view mirror the entire way to ensure I wasn't being followed.

I honestly love living in Juárez but let me tell you, the line can just really suck it out of me sometimes. And I don't think I will ever understand why people act like that. Why make a shitty situation even shittier? Why go out of your way to cut people off and be rude and make someone feel uncomfortable just so you can be one car in front of that person in a fucking line? Is getting where ever you're going 30 seconds faster really worth putting that karma out into the world?

Now instead of staying relaxed as my doctor suggested, I'm likely going to spend my evening praying that this guy's just a douche bag who might share my picture on Facebook with his friends and not actually a legit psychopath plotting my early demise.

Thanks for nothing dude.