Anonymous 2m 531
The views of this article are the perspective of the author and may not be reflective of Confessions of the Professions.
So, driving home from work today I have some fuckwad tailing me, just banging on the horn. I look in my rear view and it is some dork in a BMW or Mercedes or some other overpriced piece of shit. I can see dude’s veins bulging in his forehead and literally I can see the specks of saliva splashing off the windshield and he is LEAAAANNNNNING over the steering wheel yelling at me as if this was going to help me hear him better.
By the looks of him, he is a pretty big dude. So, unluckily for me, I have to stop at a light. At this point, my girlfriend is kind of freaking out. I am probably 5-7 or 5-8 with my hair standing up and don’t weigh much more than a buck fifty, maybe 60 after a big meal. Never been much of a fighter, didn’t really have to. I have to say, it kind of freaked me out.
So, of course Mr Testosterone has to get out of his car and confront me. Like I said, he looked big, and when he got beside me, unfortunately again for me, he was probably 6 foot 2 and maybe 200-220 pounds. Dressed in a pretty sharp suit with no jacket and his tie loosened. Probably had a pretty bad day as he proceeded to call me everything but an english speaking white man. On and on, if I was to get out of the car he’d beat my ass. Finally he called me a little cocksucker and then he told my GF that I was a bitch. LOL. The old bitch card.
So, I continued to look straight ahead, I rolled my window down, maybe a 1/3, not quite half and asked him if he was having a bad day. Without warning, Road Rage Guy punches at me. Fucking longest light in the history of Vancouver right here…sadly for him, his big fucking mitt hit most of my window–shaking his hand he yelled for me to get out of the car–here is where it gets funny.
I am still looking straight over my steering wheel. He takes one step closer to the car to open it as the light changes. Again, sadly for this fucking meathead, I had already locked the door, still looking ahead, I lunge through my partially opened window, grab him by his tie and pull him towards my car, frantically I rolled up my window and hit the gas, dragging this fuckwad through the intersection–have you ever seen a cursing, swearing salesman do a sidestep at 15 KM/H? I am still kind of laughing, and of course my GF thinks it is hilarious–I am still a little pissed off that I didn’t hit 30 and drag this fucking monkey through the streets of Vancouver.
So, if you were the dork that assaulted me, too bad you are a such dick head, but I sincerely hope that you have another tie and pair of dress shoes, those shoes have to be scuffed the fuck up. I do admire your agility at running beside my car doing cross overs. Your football training probably saved your life.