from where i sit
my husband was on the 14th street bridge in stopped traffic. well, more like-stop-and go traffic.
just beside him was a young woman, nicely dressed and all dolled up, busily texting away on her blackberry. fervently engaged in the conversation on her lap, on urgent matters, i'm sure - - - she was not nearly as cognizant of the car a few yards beyond her nose.
it was only a matter a time before the inevitable . . . the crush of her vanity plates as her bmw rammed into the bumper of a now irate driver, just ahead.
yet instead of being duly embarrassed - this young lady was incredulous. as the droves of cars surrounding her sent their chagrin with horns and scorn, filled with self importance - she gave it right back.
after all - it was a mistake. and we all make them.
but, now . . . imagine the look of surprise on my husband's face, as he, once again, sat in traffic on the 14th street bridge . . . looked over to his right at the young lady sitting in a bmw . . . the same woman, with vanity plates and a crumpled front end . . . TEXTING!
we all make mistakes. sure.
but here's my question . . . . how many times do we have to make them before we change our ways?
how much damage must be done, before we take a long, hard look at the person whose behind the wheel?
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