Big City Frustrations

Today I let the frustrations of living in a large city get the best of me. I was sloshing through puddles from the recent down-pour, dodging pedestrians, looking out for the occasional biker and lugging the groceries I grabbed at the store while walking home from the dentist.

With my mind on my “to-do list”, I paused at a curb, noted the taxi in the distance and stepped out. The taxi driver saw the “HIT ME” sign I was wearing and sped up to fulfill the request. I stepped back just in time to miss having my foot run-over and with lightning-speed reflex, grabbed the umbrella tucked under my arm and whacked the back of the taxi as he sped past.

I marched on as he yelled out his window at me. I focused straight ahead a little too shocked with myself to muster any type of response.

Sitting at home I realize that I should have some sort of remorse. I could have dented his car, which all taxi drivers seem to take great pride in. But it's just not there. Rather I sit here wearily on the couch wondering what is less stressful: walking to the store and risk getting run-over, or taking the car and loosing it in a pot hole only to arrive home with more flat tires.