Momnesia

These kids today...

So I'm driving back to the office from an interview, chowing on a late lunch from chick-fil-a, because I don't have time to stop. A red SUV pulls up beside me.

"HEY!" I hear. I glance to my left. There is a very young, slightly girlish-looking teenage boy hanging out the passenger window.
"Hey, can I have one?" he asks for a french fry, leaning out the window at his waist and reaching out. There are cars all around us on the road, and his driver isn't maintaining his lane like he should be. He's a little swervy, and it makes me nervous.
"Dude, really, I'm trying to drive here." I remark.
"Can I have one?" he repeats.
"Seriously, how old are you?" I press the button to roll up the window so that I can ignore him.
"You're fat!" he yells.
Really, only an adolescent boy would think that's the worst insult he could ever give someone. And it hardly phases me. Instead, I pull out my camera and start snapping photos of them.


The SUV speeds off. I pull up beside it at the next light and continue snapping photos.
"Dude! Tell her you're sorry!" the driver shrieks at his passenger. "Tell her you're sorry!"
The passenger refuses. The SUV swerves and almost sideswipes me.

I'm going all of 45 miles an hour, watching the road and randomly aiming my camera in their direction. I have no idea if I am catching any photos of them, and I don't really care. I'm just trying to drive home the point that all actions have consequences, a lesson that I know I hadn't learned by their age. But they're randomly speeding up to get away from me, and dropping back to shout at me some more. They're going to hurt someone if they don't cut it out.

The driver is still shouting at his passenger to apologize. I doubt it's going to happen. It makes me oddly happy that it's freaking them out, although the likelihood of anyone seeing the photos and getting back to their parents is next to zero. Still...

"I'm going to put this on my blog!" I call. "I have 700 readers a month!"
"You're going to get us in trouble!" the driver pleads. The passenger is hiding behind a stupid yellow hat.
(Okay, I have 700 visits or something a month. I don't know how many people actually read this crap. Plus I hadn't actually planned to put this on my blog. But I am now because they irritated me. On my birthday. Nanny-boo-boo. Nyah.)

They pull behind me. Cool. They had been covering their faces. Now I can get a clear shot over my shoulder. (Note: all my shots are crap. Apparently I zoomed in on the back seat.)


They see that, and pull up beside me again.
"Tell! Her! You're! Sorry!" the driver yells.
"You're fat!" the passenger repeats.

Wow. Is that the way kids apologize these days?
Hmm.
Nope. Don't like it.
I continue snapping photos and laughing to myself. In truth, most of them are aimed at my windshield, because I WAS trying to drive until they started their reign of stupid.

"You're gonna get arrested!" the driver shouts. "My dad's the SHERIFF!"
"Of what?!" I call, amused. Nottingham?
"Of Richmond COUNTY," he yells, gleefully.
"Oh, Ronnie Strength is your father?" I laugh. "Well, I work for the newspaper. Tell him to give me a call."
Not that I'd ever publish anything as moronic as this. In the newspaper, I mean.

The SUV lurches suddenly and unsafely from the road and onto the 15th Street exit, the driver and passenger exchanging halfhearted punches. They're mad at me, but mainly mad at themselves and scared that they'll get in trouble with their parents. In case you can't read their plate, it's AYQ 9803, registered in Richmond County, Ga.


And if that guy's dad DOES happen to be Sheriff Strength, which I doubt, it doesn't matter. He's no more responsible for the random teenage stupidity of his kid than I am if my daughter wets the bed. He's just liable to catch more crap about it.

But for whoever the real parents are of these kids, you might just ask them to drive safely. This may not always turn out well. If they go to college in Atlanta, for example, someone is going to point more dangerous things than cameras at them.

And then they WILL end up in the newspaper.