Not to mention the rest of us.
I understand that you’re in a hurry in the mornings. I’m sure having to run errands with a three-year-old little girl in tow is not easy. And I know that riding the bus in Memphis is fraught with tension, as most of the lines do not run with anywhere near the frequencies they should.
But you know something, I don’t care. What the fuck were you thinking yanking the little girl across Poplar–one of the cities busiest intersections–during rush hour, against traffic, not at a light, in FRONT OF A MOVING BUS?
The driver came within inches–not feet, INCHES–of slamming into both of you. If he’d been distracted for even half a second by someone asking him a question, or a call from his dispatcher, both you and that little girl would be street pizza, the driver would be traumatized and calling himself a killer, and everyone on the bus would have been mourning that pretty little girl you MURDERED because you’re TOO STUPID TO UNDERSTAND THE PRINCIPLES OF INERTIA, MOMENTUM, AND CROSSWALKS.
But that’s not the worst of it. No, ma’am, it isn’t. The worst of it isn’t even that you caught huffy and self-righteous with the driver when he called you to task for your galactic stupidity and recklessness. (“I’m a pedestrian,” you sniped, “I had the right of way, you’re supposed to know how to stop this, it wasn’t my fault and nothing happened anyway!”) The worst of it isn’t even that you were teaching your child horribly suicidal traffic skills. No, the worst of it is that you YELLED at the poor baby girl because she was crying in fear AFTER YOU NEARLY MURDERED HER.
“Stop crying,” you said. “Ain’t nothing happened to you. If you’d just learn to keep up with me we wouldn’t have any problems. You’re a big girl, you shouldn’t need me to hold your hand. Stop your damn crying!”
You stupid, stupid, stupid bitch.