Do you kiss your mother with a mouth like that?

In between mayhem and chaos today, I slipped away to grab some lunch. As I rounded the corner leaving the drive through, a large truck with a very large trailer hitch backed into my path.

I was pinned in by another car, so there was no place for me to go. I laid on the horn. The truck kept backing, so with no other alternative, I laid on the horn again in an attempt to get the very large truck to stop and avoid hitting my tiny little car.

Finally the truck stopped and I let out a sigh of relief. . . apparently much too soon. The driver jumped out of his car, charged toward mine, pointing and ranting, screaming some less than creative explicatives. (he was not a master of the English language, that was clear.) After barbarically calling me everything from a female dog involved in sexual relations to a part of the female anatomy, he finally got back into his truck. I suspect the fact that I essentially sat unresponsive in my car, neither yelling or gesturing back, took the steam out of his anger engine.

I managed to weave around him and went on my merry way. It wasn't until after I was a few blocks away that I realized that the situation was actually dangerous. I guess I just assumed if I stayed in my car, calm, cool and collected, that eventually this attitude would diffuse the situation. That worked, and it's a good thing as I didn't have a Plan B. I suspect that Plan B would be more laying on of the horn and I think that may have only sent Mr. Road Rage into a more frightful testosterone frenzy. It's a fight I wouldn't have won, so it's a good thing that brains outlasted braun. . . this time.