To the gentleman in the black Mazda SUV on Glendale that just yelled at me at three different stoplights with unintelligible red-faced rage,
I am sorry if something about my driving displeased you, though if I recall traffic was heavy enough that it would be impossible for me to go either too fast or too slow, and I did not switch lanes the entire time we were traveling alongside each other on this sunny 73 degree Saturday morning (LA, what a city!)
I was on my way to the public pool for a little lap swim, something I find gives me a great sense of peace and well being in this crazy world. Where were you headed? It seems like your day was off to a bad start. I’m sorry about that and anything I did unwittingly to contribute to your unhappiness.
But just for future reference, when a woman hears an adult male yelling at her in a manner that suggests he would like to murder her, we are conditioned to believe him, whether culturally or evolutionarily. It doesn’t matter how mundane and murder-free a life you live, a large angry man pursuing you has a lot of psychic weight!
I didn’t engage with you because it didn’t seem safe to try to conflict resolve while we were both driving cars, and because it didn’t seem like you were particularly in the mood to talk things out rationally in that moment. I made my turn for the pool, but found that my tummy didn’t feel so good, so I parked and waited for my hands to stop shaking enough to write this letter to you.
Anyway, you could be a perfectly kind, harmless man having a bad day, but know that either way you’re not allowed to yell at women like you want to murder them, whether in a dark alley or on a sunny Saturday on Glendale blvd. (ETA: you could have even just yelled at me in a non-murdery way — i.e. “hey, I don’t like you, you hatchback driving so-and-so!” — and I would have thought you were a dick, but not a letter-worthy dick.) I hope you have a better rest of your day, or that you spontaneously burst into flames, either one.
If you have spent any time in Berlin/Germany, then you know about Club-Mate, and if you know about Club-Mate, you think about Club-Mate every day, kicking yourself for not shipping a case back home. Club-Mate is, hands down, the most magical, delightful, beautiful energy drink available on earth. It is slightly sweet, sharply effervescent, and has a nice kick of ginger that is a magical balm for hangovers. It also will give you a glorious, clean, efficient caffeine high that can power you through an entire weekend at Berghain or a hard night of blogging. You won’t even noticed you’re caffeinated. You’ll just want to do things more. You know how people in Berlin will do every known ingestible drug AT ONCE, and ALL THE TIME, but nobody cares about coke? Club-Mate. CLUB-MATE.
Anyway, this is a public service to let you know that I recently found a drink that is virtually identical to Club-Mate and available in the states. It is called Guayaki Yerba Mate Sparkling Classic Gold and I just got 2 cases delivered to my house, and I’m going to go write 10 novels now. This is really big.