I got a speeding ticket. Yes. My first. I had never been pulled over before. Ever. Parking tickets--I had scores of them, but speeding? No way. Until the day I was caught (going downhill, I might add) only about a mile from my home. The second I drove past the hidden cop car, I knew I was had. I was speeding after all, and it wasn't 10mph over, either. As I lowered my car window, I didn't know what made me more angry: the fact that I was caught, the fact that there were much "worse" crimes being committed within a 4-yard radius, or that I had ruined my perfect record. There were two things that I prided myself for never having: cavities and speeding tickets. Not only did I get a ticket this summer, but I also learned from my dentist that despite my perfect teeth, I need gum surgery to repair the severe recession caused by brushing too aggressively (in my f&*cking attempt to not get cavities, of course).
Resisting oral surgery had become futile. I basically dug my own grave (or gum trenches) with that one. But the speeding ticket was worse. It was akin to having my mouth sewn shut. I felt feeble and helpless as the cars whizzed past me with a feverish sense of haste, while I had to practically adopt blinders so as not to suffer the glares of people whose lives I was holding up on the parkway, freeway, bridge, side street, and parking lot. It was humiliating, and I felt an amazing sense of rage at the policeman who gave me so many points, I'd lose my license if pulled over again. So...I spent a considerable amount of time looking in my rear view mirror convinced that I was going to be a. shot, b. rear-ended, or c. simply hated for going the speed limit or 5mph above it. I had never spent so much time worrying about what other people thought of me as I did that first month with a grillion points on my license and the longest daily commute of my life.
I even started thinking up creative ways to explain to my fellow drivers that this wasn't my typical m.o. I went so far as to draft a sign that read "SORRY, GOT A SPEEDING TICKET. CAN'T EXCEED LIMIT." But then I thought that it might be worse to be pulled over for obstructing my own view with signage and possibly distracting others on the road as well. Deep breathing came in handy, and I surpassed all of my cell phone minutes talking during my drives so that I was distracted from the pace I was forced to go. I could have driven quicker if all four tires were flat. Pissed off was an understatement.
But! As I was passed by a horse-drawn carriage one day during rush hour, I realized I had to adopt a different attitude. I had become more concerned about others than I was about myself. When I felt pressured to go quicker to accommodate someone else's pace, I asked myself if they would take the bullet for me if I was pulled over. Of course they wouldn't, no more than they would pay for my clothes at a checkout aisle if I found myself without a credit card. So, I decided that they could either a. go around me, or b. deal for the few minutes they had to follow me. Women in labor, people having heart attacks, and those whose brakes were cut had excuses. But no one was going to die if they were home five minutes later than usual, or if they had to wait an extra three seconds in the Starbucks line that morning. Someone would die, however, if I lost my license, and I figured that I took priority over everyone's need to rush. Life had caught me rushing to and fro, and I had to pay the price. The least these frenzied chinchillas could do was realize that those big white signs with numbers apply to motorists, not skateboarders, and there's probably a good reason for it (even if that reason is not paying an exorbitant amount of money to the city and getting points on one's license).
As I drove home from work last Friday, though, it finally hit me--I no longer really cared about what was going on behind me. I didn't care what drivers thought, I didn't care if I was keeping them from speeding, I didn't care if they got angry. I couldn't care less. Driving the speed limit literally made me a care-less driver, and it saved a few cars behind me from getting tickets themselves (ride my bumper all you want, but you're going to be kissing my ass when we go through a speed trap and you're saved by my speedometer--and yes, this did happen).
Lesson learned: when you feel yourself caring more about what the person behind you in line thinks, or paying attention to the hand gestures of the person behind you when you stop at a yellow light, remember this--is it your responsibility to enable their anxiety, inability to relax, or impatience? It's not. And would they take the fall for you if you got in trouble for accommodating their bad choices? No. So the next time you feel yourself absorbing the needs of others as your own, or silencing your own better judgement to assimilate and keep others happy, slow down, chill, and let others cope. It's not life or death. Everyone can just calm their nerves and breathe, unless, of course, that nerve is exposed from hostile oral hygiene practices.
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