I was headed west down 800 East in Orem past the mall. Those that know the area are familiar with the Red Lobster, Maverick, etc. located in the area:
I was going at a pretty good clip (probably about 40 mph) in the left of two lanes. I wanted to make a right turn at the intersection, so I prepared to do so by putting my blinker on and moving into the second (right) lane. A dude in a green Mazda was pulling out of the Maverick (pictured). He literally looked right at me entering his lane, faced forward quickly and gunned it. At this point, I have one of two options. I either finish my lane change and brake extremely hard behind the guy to prevent a collision, or I cancel the lane change, get back in my lane, speed up slightly, pass, and move over in front of him.
Most people in the position of Mr. Tool, having already made the mistake of failing to yield properly to oncoming traffic would probably slow down, look around and make sure their car isn't in danger of causing any other accidents. Most people would look for the car they almost hit, and make sure they were out of harm's way. Not this winner. If you were wondering which option I took, I took option B: just go around the guy and make him pay for his mistake. Mr. Tool was having none of that.
As I sped up to 50 and passed him, I realized that he hadn't slowed down. In fact, he had decided to gun it as well, realizing that I was going to pass him. I'm not sure what he was thinking, but I've noticed that a lot of people in Utah Valley love the "I'm offended" game. The object is to try and manufacture situations where, instead of letting someone have their way (legal right-of-way in this case) and moving on, you attempt to force a dangerous, last-minute situation where you pretend like you didn't know what was going on and then try to blame the "almost accident" on the other person. I realized that Mr. Tool must have lettered in this game in high school.
I passed him pretty quickly and he was in my blind spot before I realized what he was doing: he was trying to cut me off... prevent me from getting in his lane (also illegal btw). But I had a whole 2-3 car lengths to make the lane change. At this point, I was forced to make another decision: brake in my lane, or the one over. I decided it was time to get in the lane I had intended to be in before Mr. Psychopath decided he wanted to play the "I'm offended" game.
I moved over and had to brake fairly hard. I signaled. I cleared his Mazda with 2 car lengths to spare and anyone else would've been forced to slow down the second they saw the blinker. Not Mr. Tool. I came to a stop behind the next car in line. I waited for a second, and, sure enough, I heard the sound of tires screeching. Mr. Jackass had decided to wait until the last minute to brake - attempting to further punctuate the fact that my car is faster than his. No, wait. I think he was trying to say that I almost caused an accident. Nope. Nice try though.
There was the obligatory horn blast that lasted 4 seconds. Okay, maybe I deserved that, but it's not like I caused that situation. Then there was the cussing and swearing. I couldn't really make it out, but I heard plenty of 4-letter gems in there. Then came the finger. As I'm watching in my rearview, I see his hand raised out the driver-side door. Then, as traffic starts to inch forward slowly in front of me, I see him get out of his car... but it's not like he walks up to me. He just stands there, one foot out, yelling and swearing at me (still pretty unintelligible) like a barking dog. I laughed (he couldn't really see me, my windows have a pretty dark tint).
I thought my brief encounter with the clown was over until I saw his green Mazda pop up in my rearview again. I thought to myself, "Oh great... here we go." He gets right on my bumper predictably , as we come to the next stop light a block away. I come to a complete stop in my lane, and I see him pull to the right side of my car. Like a bad movie script, I intuitively realize that he's going to stop, parallel to me in the next lane and give me what he desperately needs to keep - a piece of his mind.
Sure enough, there's his head, poking out his window, the obscenities continue - and this time, I can actually hear them loud and clear.
dude: Hey, why don't you learn how to f***ing drive, a***h***!
me: (glossy-eyed stare through sunglasses back at him)
dude: What the f*** is wrong with you?! F***ing a***h***, get out of the car if that's the way you want do it b****!
me: (same stare, one eyebrow raised)
dude: What the f*** were you doing a***h***?
me: You saw my blinker, I was trying to get into your lane and you cut me off... you forc...
dude: (interrupting) f*** you motherf***er! Get out of the car!
The guy gets out of his car, comes over to the passenger side of my car, and continues to yell at me. It seriously looks like a darker version of Flea from The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Five foot sixish, no shirt, tattooed up, almost drooling and spitting with rage.
me: (smiling slightly) Are you serious?
dude: F***ing get out of the car b****! I'll kick your ass!
me: Get back in your car.
dude: F*** you and your stupida** Japanese piece of s*** car!
me: (thinking) wait, what's a Mazda again?
dude: Why don't you go back to where you came from and learn how to f***ing drive you piece of s***!
This brought my mind to a complete halt. I was already starting to feel a bit self-conscious, since the guy was holding up traffic and starting to create quite the specticle. I noticed that despite all his ridiculous threats, he didn't dare touch my car, and he certainly wasn't in a hurry to pull me out of my car and get all Rodney King on my, well, you know. I was bewildered. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
me: Where I'm from?! I'm from LA retard!
dude: (not paying attention because he's too busy yelling) F*** you and your s***ty car. Go back where you belong and learn how to f***ing drive! (x3, chorus, and refrain like a broken record as he gets back in his car and speeds off).
I'm not sure where he got that unless he equates driving a foreign vehicle with being foreign-born. That being said, the slobbering candidate for the next KKK mascot didn't look anything Japanese. I'm still completely confused by the experience. Maybe it's because I didn't say a whole lot because he was really fascinating to watch.
Ugh. I just hope I didn't make him late for his job at Wendy's.
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