On Friday, September 30, 2005 at 9:52am, I flipped someone the finger for the very first time.

Crossing Eastern Avenue, at Trinity, I stepped off the median but noticed a car coming around the corner, so I stepped back up on the curb. The driver was nowhere close to hitting me (there was a good three seconds before he passed me) yet he honked as he drove by. I absotively posilutely HATE unnecessary honking. (Ya hear me, cabbies?)

I brought my hand up to make a "wazzamattawichu?" gesture, but somehow my middle finger popped up and that's what I gave him instead. Who cares if he saw. It didn't make me feel any badder than normal. But it sure felt odd.

"Residual guilt?" ask my colleague.

More like regret. I wish I'd thrown my shoe. OK, maybe not my shoe -- but something. Like a Rottweiler.


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