DaveZdyrko.com

There was a time that I would react to someone doing me wrong on the highway by pulling out an illegally-owned 9mm Beretta and waving it at the culprit while aggressively passing and then cutting them off. I grew out of that and moved on to a technique I liked to call “the nudge” or “love tap”, which I learned from watching bump drafting in NASCAR and from playing Gran Turismo.

If someone was driving obnoxiously slow in the fast lane I would just tail them so close that I’d actually “tap” them and start pushing them forward. I would do it in a way that left my little Honda Accord and its 200,000+ miles of wear without even a hint of a scratch or dent, but it was something that always worked in getting the stupid slow driver in front of me to get out of the fast lane as quickly as they could. As I’ve grown in years and have become more mature, I’ve been doing a lot less of “the nudge” and simply no longer wave the handgun, which is no longer owned.

This growth was showcased today after some jack ass just wouldn’t let me into the lane as I was trying to get around a couple of cars that were in an accident. The old me would’ve acted childishly and bumped him, cut him off or even pulled out a gun. I’m much more mature now so I didn’t do any of that. Instead, I just turned on my high beams and trailed him for the next 30 minutes in slow commuter traffic while keeping at a distance that I hoped equated to the most annoyance — while taking every opportunity to pull to the left side and get my high beams shining brightly into his side mirror. It was the adult and mature way to wreak vengeance on the highway.

I hate to keep bitching about bad drivers, especially since one of the reasons I had shut down my site for a couple years was that it had gotten to the point where I would only blog about how much I hated AWDs (Asian Women Drivers). It’s just so hard to keep my sanity after dealing with the sometimes horrific commute to work that’s completely the result of people just having no clue how to drive.

I have never in my life seen so many people who think that coming to a complete STOP in the merge lane is the best way to get onto a highway. Everyone takes 30 to 40 seconds to accelerate up to the speed limit off of green lights. When driving up a damn hill and needing to slow down just a little, people love to slam on their brakes instead of simply letting off their gas pedals. Sure, this happens everywhere. Believe me, I’ve seen it. I just have never in my life experienced such a high quantity of this sort of inept driving.

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I knew things were really going too well. Pretty much every night that I’ve gone out in Boston has been amazing. The girls have mostly been highly approachable and at least 4 out of every 5 that I tried to talk to would actually have a conversation and maybe 1 out of every 4 of those would provide their digits at the conclusion. Both are extremely high success rates for me.

My biggest stumbling block has been the level of my drunkeness which has made it really hard for me to remember names or properly put and save the numbers in the iPhone, which is a major bitch to use when highly inebriated. I’ve had four different girls call me out here where nothing further happened primarily because I had no freaking clue who they were or what they looked like. I’m working on that issue and will be pacing myself on the drinking or just playing the game sober some times.

All that said, last night at Gypsy was beyond bad on the roll front. The first girl I said “hey” to on the dance floor quite literally “jumped” away while looking at me in disgust. All I said was, “hey, you two girls should dance with my friends”. The sad thing is that this was merely only the start of a crash and burn night and probably the nicest reaction.

Brandon & Harris started dancing with these two girls and since I was the odd man out I decided to fly it solo in the bar area after just waiting around on the dance floor for 15 minutes. It was reminiscent of my 0-21 at Suite 181 back in San Francisco, though I didn’t quite get up to that number of rejections. I had zero luck in striking any sort of conversations and I had a whopping FIVE different girls straight up say, “don’t bother, you’re too fat”. Ouch. Can’t really blame them because the truth is that if they were fat, I probably wouldn’t have approached them in the first place, but it still stings a bit nonetheless.

I’m a believer in the numbers game, so I understand rejection is inevitable no matter who you are. It’s just some will get rejected more than others. So you just forget about it and move on to the next target. However, this was clearly an off night for me so I eventually gave up my plan of drinking in moderation and got myself shit-faced. I spent all my cash at the bar and since cabs in this city don’t believe in credit cards, I was kind of shit out of luck with getting home blasted. Thankfully, this group of guys actually came to my rescue and got a cab for me and even paid for it. I think they sensed the smell of failure on me, understood the place I was in, and wanted to help a fellow “brother” out. That MASSholes thing is beginning to look like a myth.