Late yesterday afternoon I was nudging my way east on Melrose Ave., between Robertson and San Vicente Blvd., waiting for a green light. For the time being I was to the right of a youngish brunette in a late-model Hundai. We were side by side within a lane and a half’s worth of road space. I saw that up ahead the right-side lane would open up after we got past a parked car, so I nudged my way forward, inching past Hundai girl.
This pissed her off. She lurched forward so that we were side by side again. She then expertly pantomined “what are you doing? You can’t elbow your way in front of me! I own the main lane and you’re only in a half-lane to my right, so I’m the dominant driver!”
I glanced at her mute performance out of the corner of my eye. Due respect but I politely ignored what she was putting out. No defiance, no eff-you-back gestures — just “oh, are you upset about something?”
A few seconds later the traffic started to move and the right lane opened up. I darted in, took the lane and gunned it across San Vicente. Within five or six seconds I was at least six to eight car lengths ahead of Hundai Girl. I’m sure this made her even more unhappy. Pardon my dust, Peggy Sue, but this is how life in the big city goes sometimes. We’re all living in a kind of Mad Max world.