The other day, I was driving through SF’s Inner Sunset neighborhood, in a hurry, on the way to the Yum Yum. A car full of very young people cut me off at that tricky four-way intersection (Irving and 9th.) I honked my horn. Down came their driver’s side window. I braced myself for the nasty threats, the fists, the finger. But no. Instead, a bearded, frizzy-haired guy leaned out the window, made a “calm down, take it down a notch” gesture to me with his right hand, and calmly mouthed out the following words:
“It’s … going .. to … be .. OK.”
This is the first time that I’ve ever gotten into a road rage situation with a crisis intervention counselor. Needless to say, the encounter left no negative residue at all. I wish this kind of thing would happen more often. If this were NYC, all my teeth, at this point, would be missing.