Home > The Goofy Book 3: The Real Thing > Stoplight Racing

Stoplight Racing

If pop culture has taught us anything since the days of rickety horse and buggy carts and chariots, there can only be one Highlander on a particular stretch of road.  History dictates that the awkward moment when a driver meets the adjacent eyes of another at a stop, the situation must be resolved by a high-speed street race that is declared finished when one of the two drivers backs down, crashes, or dies (typically not in this much of a dramatic fashion).  The winner of the stare-initiated vehicular contest is praised with fame, cred, and two slutty-looking broads that attach  instantly like leeches to anybody in the dim limelight as the winner is allowed to gloat about “doing it longer and harder” than the loser.

How our streets would look on a daily basis if people actually followed my made-up history claims.

The sixth sense of the human body is, in fact, not seeing dead people, but knowing somebody else in another car is intently looking at you.  You’ve been that person.  You pull up next to a magnificently rusted station wagon at a red light and instinctively turn your head to see who could possible be in command of that tetanus-waiting-to-happen death-mobile.  As soon as you begin mindlessly studying the side of their face, they get the tingling Spidey-sense and turn to look back at you.  With an obviously unprepared and delayed reaction your head whips to the front to avoid their gaze, but in the process there exists the inevitable millisecond of eye-lock.  You know you’ve been caught.  This unintended visual encounter makes your heart rapidly pump blood through each and every vein as your body prepares for the forthcoming fight or flight animal decision.

If this minor interaction is enough to cause a brief animality panic attack, how much worse is it when you peer through the spaces between bathroom stall doors and catch the eyes of the occupant with pants around their ankles?  That’s an identify realization panic for both parties.

I spy with my little eye....

So after steadying your pacemaker back to a reasonable level after your last highway confrontation, you pull up to the next red light at the same time as a candy-apple red convertible… you didn’t look at them did you?  You did?  And you saw the driver’s fierce, beady eyes as they swiveled in your direction?  Well, they’re on to you now, and judging by your current attire, they’re also highly suspicious of just what type of person you really are.  You might as well take this moment to absorb every detail about their appearance and start creating judgmental opinions in your mind as you begin to battle it out through this impromptu furious staring competition.

For more barely related delicious bathroom humor (I feel like delicious and bathroom should never go together), read the most viewed FBG post to date: Bookstore Brainwashed Body Control

To follow along with my skewed thoughts during the progressive release of my “book”, see Category: The Goofy Book 3

  1. 2011/12/16 at 3:35 pm

    sorry for those of you who just got multiple updates about this content. I had an error I had to fix so republished this post content in this new page so it should all be sorted out now.

    Now I’m gonna go stare at every person I see on the road on my way home from work.

  2. 2012/01/10 at 10:59 pm

    That made my skin tingle and my arm twitch and a little whimper of “Holy!… What the?!?! when I looked at the picture of the door for the 20th time and only then noticed the creepy eye. It’s okay to accidentally glance in, but no friggin body should ever be looking out of the damn stall that earnestly. It’s like he wants help, but not the kind of help that an innocent passer-by would be comfortable with. Not at all comfortable with.
    I’m all like… I don’t want to look back at the door ’cause he’s probably still there.

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