Saved By The Dot

In my religion we celebrate the birth of the Lord in the summer time. We do so, by sitting on a hard floor with our legs crossed for 3 hours, and conducting different actions and saying different prayers. In our religion, this is typically called "Pooja", but when its a special occasion they call it a "Maha-pooja". The orchestrator who conducts the actions, prayers, and explanations is called a "Poojari (pronounced 'poo-ja-ree')" and is equivalent to a priest or reverend giving a sermon. There are various Poojaris out there, and some make the time go by fly with funny stories containing ethincal lessons, and others are cut and dry, and you actually "feel" the 3 hours. You feel it when your legs go numb, and you think your paralyzed from the waist down.

In any case, many years ago, I was at such a Maha-Pooja, and after it was done, I was volunteered to drop the Poojari off at the airport since his services were required in another state. Mind you, we were in central New Jersey, and the Poojari had to go to JFK airport in New York City. If you've never been to JFK airport, you should know that in order to get there you have to cross through the monumentous traffic of several boroughs of New York City. It is not fun, and in the summer time it gets quite annoying. I was young, and could not yell "Not it!" fast enough, and as a result I was nominated to make the trek. Just thinking about the journey made me flabbergasted, and I was not looking forward to the task at hand. At this point, I probably would've rather gone swimming in a pool full of piranhas and then taken a salt-water bath instead of putting up with that traffic.

In any case, I was the sucker, and I had to go, so I sucked it up, and got in my car with this Poojari. He was a tall, bald man. He wore glasses, and was overweight. His hair that surrounded his bald dome, was tied in a small little tail in the back by a rubber band. He had these Sherlock Holmes type glasses that constantly slid down his sweaty & oily nose, and the fact that he spent every two minutes pushing them back up, added to his quirky personality. I had never met the man before, but several hours in traffic, will certainly cause a man to open up to you. "What are you looking for in life? Are you on the path you want to be on? Can you turn up the air conditioner?" were some of the several thought-provoking questions he asked. The whole time I was trying to listen to the radio, and avoid these questions, because at the age of 22, you're probably more worried about your next female victim, then wonder about these types of things.

We were finally cruising a bit, and took the exit for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway off of the Verrazano Bridge. I thought I was doing well since the speedometer had actually hit 40 mph, and I thought another 2 hours and I'd be home free. We take the exit, and to my dismay the traffic is worst then ever. There are 3 lanes, and all of them are packed. Cars were sitting bumper-to-bumper and there was nothing to do but sit, wait, and ponder life. I was trying to make some small talk to kill the time, and avoid it being a one-way conversation. As I was doing this I noticed in my rear view mirror a motorcycle was driving. It was driving in the small gap created between the lanes of cars. Apparently there was enough space for this guy with his motorcycle to weave in between the lanes of traffic. I thought it was quite dangerous to do this, because there wasn't much room for error. In any case, I acknowledged the man's riding ability and dismissed it. I waived over to the car in the lane next to me, and he gave me the hand signal that when the traffic starts to move he would let me get in front of him in his lane.

As I was waiting for the traffic to move, I saw the stupidest thing ever. A man who was probably 6 ft. 5 in. and weighed about 300 lbs, was riding his bike in between the lanes. Then several more of his idiotic friends were wizzing by. I mean going a good 50 mph in between the lanes of cars! I didn't realize how many there were, but when it looked like the last of them had passed, the traffic started to move and so I proceeded to move in the next lane. Just then however, the traffic abruptly stopped, and I was now blocking the middle lane. I hear a loud screeching. Apparently another person was on his bike and still riding. I regretfully looked over my shoulder out my back window and I see a HUGE 6 ft.-something guy, with his girlfriend who was even bigger than him. This man looked like he was carrying a blimp on his motorcycle. On top of that he was trying to weave in between the lanes at 50 mph! He had to slam on his brakes because I was blocking the lane. BAM! BAM! BAM! I look back and this huge dude, is now hitting my car with his boulder-like fists, and yelling "I'm gonna fucking kill you asshole!" "You know what you just did!? Your fuckin dead! I'm gonna kill you!" This was followed by his blimp of a girlfriend yelling "Yeah, asshole, you dead! Ma man gonna fuck you up! You betta recka-nize!"

We were on the BQE, so I did the one appropriate thing to do. When the traffic moved, I got my ass out of there and started driving like I was fricken Mario Andretti! I thought I lost him, and I was in the last lane next to the divider. The traffic had stopped. After what happened next, so did my heart. To my left was the divider, to my right was the huge man who wanted to kill me with his girlfriend who probably wanted to eat me, in front of me was another one of his gang-riding friends, and behind me was some more people. I was isolated. The traffic was moving around me and they had cornered my Plymouth Acclaim on the middle of the freakin highway! They kept banging on the door, and telling me to come out, and of course I refused. At this point, the Poojari tells me not to do anything irrational! A little too late for that.

So here I am, 22 years old, and the last man who doesn't want to kill me I will see is this Poojari, I figured I"m going straight to the top at this point. The banging did not stop and neither did the threats. I figured if I was gonna get my ass kicked, I was gonna take one of them out too. I dropped the Acclaim into Neutral and started revving my engine. I figured, I'll at least take out the one guy in front of me by running him over, and the rest will be in god's hands. Besides the guy in front of me was skinny, with dread-locks and I think the only thing bigger than his hair was his ridiculous sunglasses. I say a quick prayer and put my hand on the gear shift. The engine is revving really loud and I figured, well this is the end. Before I drop the car into drive, the guy in front of me yells "He's a fuckin Hindu man!" "What the fuck?!?" Still being scared shit-less I look over at the Poojari and it turns out he's got the biggest red dot on his head. I overlooked it when he got in. So, I open my window, and yell "Yes, we are Hindus! We didn't see you driving in between the car lanes man!" "It was a fricken accident!" To which the big dude, who has beaten my car in says "You gotta use your eyes man. You gotta watch where your goin!" Then they all drove away. Of course the only thing I was thinking was "you gotta use your fuckin brains man, you can't be driving 50 mph in between a shit load of cars you ass monkey!"

I don't know why, and I don't know how, but for some reason that was it. They noticed the big red dot, and they told us to watch out, and they went on their way. I have a couple of theories:

1. Their doctor is a Hindu, and they don't want him messing with their health care, or cutting off their Viagra supply

2. The quickie mart owner is a Hindu, and they don't want to have their cigarette supply getting cut off

3. The guy really fears the fury and the wrath of the dot

I tell you what, the rest of that trip I enjoyed listening about life, and talking about the path I'm traveling, and what my plans are for the future.