Content edited for clarity. Ever wish someone would get what they deserve? Well, Karma has it handled. We don't always get to witness what comes back around for people, but it is a beautifully satisfying moment if you do. Sometimes seeing Karma work it's magic is just what you need to have a better day.
Yes to karma! Content has been edited for clarity purposes!
Not Today Karen
“This happened a little over a month ago. Since graduating from high school, my autistic son has been working in the food court of Hollywood Casinos. Last year they renovated the entire food court with the menus of each restaurant revamped or improved. My son was excited to try out the new offerings, so we went for lunch on his day off.
We headed over to the stall with the American food and stood behind the railing to look at the menu. There were two women in their 60’s to our left, also looking at the menu. One of them was loudly exclaiming, ‘Look at those prices! That is ridiculous!’
The second woman said she was going to get a hot dog and a drink, and asked the first woman if she was going to get anything. Again, the first woman loudly exclaimed, ‘I’m not going to pay that much for a burger. It’s too much. How can they charge that much for a burger! It’s just a burger! No, I’m not going to pay that!’
Meanwhile, my son had made up his mind that he wanted a burger and I had nudged him to line up behind a woman, who was waiting in line behind two men. The line was moving a little slow since the staff was still getting used to all the changes. The loud-mouthed woman and her friend got in line behind me.
The two men were very friendly and struck up a light conversation with the woman in front of us. One of them told her that whatever she wanted, he was going to buy for her. His friend piped up, ‘it’s okay, he does this a lot,’ (to reassure her that she was not being hit on).
She accepted his kind offer. The man then turned to my son and me and told us he would like to buy our lunch as well. My son immediately thanked him for his generous offer but declined. I complimented this man on his generosity and kindness and declined, also. I told him my son gets an employee discount, and we were good with that.
Well, guess who was listening to all this going on? The loud-mouthed, complaining woman behind me! She tried to move closer to try to get noticed by this generous man, so I repositioned myself to block her. No free lunch for her!
If she hadn’t been so busy bad-mouthing the place and complaining about the prices (loudly and obnoxiously), she would have ended up in line in front of us and would have been offered to have her lunch paid for by the generous man.
And one more thing. While we were waiting in line, she started complaining about how slow it was moving, saying, ‘How can it take so long to make burgers?!'”
Karma Knew What To Do
“I saw karma affect a person in about 10 minutes. One Saturday morning in the late eighties my then fiance, now husband, and I stopped to eat breakfast at a McDonald’s in downtown Los Angeles. We had planned to spend the day shopping for bargains in LA’s famous Fashion District.
While waiting in line to place our order, I suddenly became aware of a young woman in the line next to me swearing to her friend in an agitated, perturbed manner. As I listened I was startled to hear that I was the subject of her disgust; or rather my purse was.
You see, I was wearing a Gucci purse over my right shoulder and the woman was telling her friend that it wasn’t real, that I should be ashamed to wear such a ‘fake assed purse,’ that she was a connoisseur of designer purses and owned many, along with several other invectives attacking my character and social status for carrying such an insulting object.
Since she wasn’t speaking to me directly and appeared to be quite upset by me and my purse, I decided to ignore her rather than show her proof that my handbag was indeed an authentic Gucci. It had been purchased for me by my cousin, a fashion design student, at the House of Gucci while visiting Italy on a European field trip with her classmates earlier that year. I had given her money for the purse and she brought it back for me.
I had never owned a designer purse before, but because the U.S. currency exchange was high at the time I wagered I might luck out and be able to afford such a souvenir from Italy. I later saw the same purse for sale at Nordstrom in the South Bay here in Southern California, so I was able to verify that it wasn’t a knock-off.
I really wanted to explain to the woman the details of how, why, where, and when my purse was acquired, but I reasoned that a person who would denigrate a stranger because of the handbag she was wearing probably wasn’t too rational, and therefore wouldn’t appreciate my educating her on what a ‘real’ Gucci purse actually looked like. Even though I wasn’t really an expert.
Subsequently, the woman’s next move confirmed I was standing next to a narcissist, for when she got to the counter to order she leaned forward and extended her left arm out about a foot from me. I realized she was passively showing me the four or five rings on her hand which each contained small diamonds.
By then I was bemused by her performance: she didn’t know me but was communicating her belief that she was of a higher social standing than I. After that, I turned towards my fiance and snuggled next to him as he placed our food order, not telling him about the bizarre attack I had just undergone.
Here’s where karma visited. After collecting our food we stayed inside and sat at a table next to a window with my back to the window. About five minutes later while talking and eating we were interrupted by the sound of a car’s engine starting and stopping multiple times.
I turned around to witness those same two females from the line now seated in a very old dilapidated, oxidized, small grey car in the parking lot that the woman who had hated on me and my purse was trying to start. When she saw me turn to look at her, she placed her right hand over her face and looked down in embarrassment, all the while continuing to try to start her car without success.
At that moment what did I do? How did I react to that scene? I turned around, smiled, and resumed conversing with my fiance. I realized that I didn’t need to gloat at the woman’s plight and was glad I hadn’t personally responded to her attacks against me.
Karma had spoken on my behalf.”
No Chance Bud!
“I went to dinner with a lawyer in a swanky Washington DC restaurant. He was interested in hiring me as an expert witness in a court case he was involved with. I almost immediately grouped him into the arrogant, self-righteous, egotistical, show-off category of the worst kind of lawyers. Within a few minutes, I had decided not to work for him even though he was offering me a lot of money. However, I was pretty much obligated to finish the meal with him so I hid my feelings and smiled.
Twice, he called, in a loud voice, for a waitress to come to him so we could order drinks and then our meal. The meal seemed to take forever as he asked for more vino, to have his plate warmed up, and for various condiments. After each request, he made some derogatory remarks about the waitress or the poor service.
I got the distinct impression that at least some of his actions were done just to impress me with his apparent power. He would say things like, ‘Don’t you just hate it when the waiters don’t know their place?’ or ‘I don’t get chickenschit service like this at the Hyatt Regency.’
He also had made it a point to order an expensive meal and vino and then point out how much it probably cost. Finally, the meal was done and he called for coffee so we could ‘talk turkey.’ He began by telling me how he wanted me to testify and what he wanted me to say. Before I could respond, the coffee cart arrived.
When the coffee was served, she placed the tray with the bill on it, on the table and the lawyer grabbed for it right away. This bumped the arm of the waitress which caused her to spilled a small amount of coffee into the saucer. The lawyer whipped back and bumped the table which then bumped the saucer just enough to spill a little coffee onto the table and some of it dripped onto his suit pants.
You would have thought he had been shot by the way he reacted. He stood up and began shouting at the waitress and calling her names and holding his pants out. The waitress made every effort to apologize and to try to help but the lawyer just slapped her hands and cussed and called her more names and threatened to sue her and the restaurant. The waitress was distressed and almost in tears.
Within less than a minute, a man in a suit came out and declared he was the owner and asked if he could help. He was very apologetic and said he would pay for any repair or laundry bill. The lawyer exploded again and demanded the owner pay to replace his suit and to ‘comp’ the meal (meaning give him the meal for free). At this point, the owner’s attitude changed and in a calm voice, he said, ‘I can’t give you the meal but I will pay to have your suit cleaned.’
By this time, the whole restaurant was in stunned silence, watching the action. The lawyer shouted, ‘Do you know who I am?!’ and then repeated his threats and cussing.
He continued without letting the owner speak for two or three minutes. Finally, the owner grabbed the lawyer by the arm and said, ‘Let’s discuss this in my office.’
The lawyer shouted, ‘Let go of me. That’s assault! I’ll sue you for every dime you have!’
Despite this threat, the two of them quickly disappeared thru the kitchen swing doors. I looked around and everyone was looking at me. I could only shrug my shoulders and then hide my face behind my coffee cup. About three or four minutes later, the lawyer burst out of the kitchen doors, scanned the bill for the meal, flipped two one hundred dollar bills into the table, and then said, ‘Let’s get the fruck out of here.’
We walked about a block to the parking lot with him cussing the whole distance. He was mostly just muttering to himself but he would look at me every so often so I felt compelled to listen. I gathered that the owner had refused to comp the meal and then told the lawyer he was excessively abusive to the waitress and was no longer welcome to come back to his restaurant. The lawyer protested. The owner then picked up the phone and called the police. The lawyer stopped the call and said he would leave. The owner finished the statement with, ‘and never come back.’
When we got to the cars, he asked me if we had a deal. I said, ‘No. I don’t think I’m going to have time for you,’ and then I got in my car.
The lawyer stood there, cursing at me and calling me names as I drove away.”
Begging For Karma
“This happened on a weekday evening. It was still light out, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic. I was driving to a coffee bar to meet some friends. I knew the road well since it was my route to work every day. It was a three-lane roadway, and I was in the right-hand lane. There was a car in each of the other two lanes, both almost even with me.
I could hear a horn blasting a long way behind me. When I checked my rearview, I saw a car a long way back doing at least 20 over the speed limit. It was swerving from lane to lane to get past people. The other two drivers saw him too.
We all did the same thing. We lined up right beside each other, doing exactly the speed limit. By the time the car got to us, there was no way past us, and the car had to slow down. There were two twenty-something guys in the car, and they were ticked off. They tried swerving behind each of us, almost on our bumpers, but we stayed lined up.
My lane became a turn-only lane, and just before we reached the turn the car swerved in behind me. The speed limit dropped, so I slowed down. I knew the road widened into two lanes just after the corner, and that would be the end of the fun, so I stayed in my lane. The second we reached the start of the second lane, the lads blew by me, with one final horn blast and two very long middle-finger salutes.
Not three seconds later, I saw the red and blue flashers go on. It was a police cruiser was lurking in a side street. I saw the car’s driver slam his hands down on the wheel in frustration as he pulled over. I ‘saluted’ him as I passed him, still sedately doing the speed limit. I was still laughing when I walked into the coffee bar.
Some people just beg for karma.”
On the Positive Side!
“My favorite story of instant karma happened around 10 years ago when I was just about to turn 21. Though it was my instant karma, not someone else’s I got to watch. I was unemployed, crashing on my best friend’s couch, and couldn’t even afford to pay attention.
I found a job at a local bar that paid barely enough to cover the gas it took to get to and from my buddy’s place, but in less than a month the con’s outweighed the pro’s and the only sensible decision was to cut my losses and quit the job I hated. two weeks later, the anxiety began to build. Already having cashed my final check, I had $100 remaining and no clue when I would be making it again and even less of an idea where to start looking.
My buddy whom I was living with was dating another friend of mine, Johnny, so the three of us were almost always together. Unfortunately for Johnny he came down with a pretty rough case of walking pneumonia and had to go to the ER. He was prescribed some antibiotics but Johnny was just as unemployed as I was at the time, and it was going to cost $80 to fill his prescription. Johnny would never have mentioned needing the money had he known I still had $100 in my pocket, especially knowing it was the last of the money I would be getting, but it wasn’t until I was driving away from his house with my last $20 that the anxiety kicked itself into high gear.
I pulled over at a gas station a couple of miles down the road from Johnny’s, just as I was noticing my car was close to empty. So I went into the store, got $10 in gas, a pack of smokes, and on a whim, I spent the last $4 on two $2 scratch-offs. As I was pumping gas and throwing the first ticket away, winning nothing, the anxiety turned into anger at myself for helping someone at a time when I couldn’t even help myself, and then guilt over being angry, and then anxiety again. I finished pumping gas, sat in the car, lit a stick, and remembered the fact that I had another ticket to scratch off.
You can imagine the shock, joy, excitement, and too many other emotions when not 15 minutes after giving virtually all my money away, I was now $500 richer. Granted, $500 isn’ta lot of money by most standards, but low key, $500 is a lot of money. At least it was enough that with strategic spending and coupon cutting, I was able to make that money last until I was no longer jobless.
I’m so glad I banished all feelings of regret I was having in that parking lot and was happy I was at least able to help someone who needed it. I’ve always felt that if I had been harboring negative thoughts about giving the money away, that it would have never come back to me, certainly not as quickly or as multiplied as it was.”
Bad Neighbors Part One
“This just happened yesterday. It was so satisfying.
I like to think we have good relations with our neighbors. We’ve always told them to let us know if they need anything or have any concerns; we’ve offered help and the use of our equipment (chainsaws, log splitter), watched over their house when they were gone (and vise versa), and told them not to worry about the fact they are actually infringing on our property. Their front yard, stone garden beds are built a couple of feet over the property line, as well as their backyard shed. It’s a few feet, and we have huge lots with several football fields worth of city-owned, maintained green space behind our properties that is basically an extension of our backyard. Lots of space, no big deal.
Our whole block of neighbors share the green space, most of them drive through it regularly (being careful not to make ruts in the grass), and park trailers, campers, boats, and vehicles just past their property tree line (on city property). Now, this is technically illegal, but it’s an honor system. As long as no one is destroying it and there are no complaints made, it’s free game. We’ve only been living there three years, but this honor system has been going on for 30 plus years. We store two flat-deck trailer beds back there.
Our one neighbor has told us that in winter, the smoke from our indoor wood stove is a bit of a nuisance as they say the smoke goes in their backyard. We explained that it is currently our only means of heating the house as our furnace died and we haven’t yet replaced it. My husband is an arborist (tree care), so we have lots of wood. We store it in proper stacks at the far back-end of our property.
Yesterday, a fire commissioner came driving through the back green space. He said he was ‘checking everyone.’ Prior to this, however, my husband saw our neighbor run out to the marshal, pointing at our property while he spoke. My husband and his dad were sitting in the shade behind a woodpile having lunch, our neighbor mistakenly thought no one was home.
So, the fire commissioner came into our yard. We have a properly enclosed fire pit in the middle of the yard, but no permit. We thought maybe the permit was transferable when we bought the place, but it wasn’t. He said it’s fine, we just had to fill out the permit forms and we’d be approved. But law stated that we have to have 16? of stone or non-combustible material around the pit. Then, he started asking about our woodstove. Wait, how does he even know about it? Well, our neighbor obviously made a complaint both about our fire pit and our woodstove. We told him it’s inspected and insured, mentioned names of people we’ve had to maintain it who he knew well. We explained we heat the house with wood only, as we don’t have a furnace. That’s fine, he said, that’s a cheap way to do it!
So our neighbor reported us for an improper fire pit and was hoping we’d be forced to stop using our wood stove, but there was nothing illegal about it! But, it didn’t stop there. Apparently, there was also a complaint about our woodpiles being a fire hazard, but that was legal too; they’re more than far away enough from any structures and are stacked properly. Oh, now one more complaint. Our trailers are parked in the back. Now, legally, he has to file a complaint with the city. He says if the city decides to do anything, not only will no one be allowed to store stuff back there, but they will close off all access. Now, the entire block may lose the privilege – all those boats and campers, many of them even have garages that would become useless, as they are only accessible from the back.
So, in total, instead of speaking with us directly, our neighbor reported our fire pit, wood stove, woodpiles, and trailers. Though it didn’t turn out too bad for us. So far we have only had to buy some stone, but the whole block may suffer the consequences for the trailer complaint. Our neighbor drives through the back too, but stores his camper on a cement pad in his yard. He obviously didn’t register the fact he’d lose access to it. But, here’s where he really didn’t think. My husband asked the commissioner if our neighbor had a fire permit. He peeked into his backyard.
‘Oh. oh! Um, no, he doesn’t.'” Story continued below.
Bad Neighbors Part Two
“He went on to explain that not only does he not have a permit, but that his fire pit istoo close to our property. It wouldn’t be approved for a permit. Our neighbor had just built all the stonework for and surrounding his pit, running him around $15,000. Now, it is all useless. We had no idea that simple question would have cost him so much. I even feel bad about it, but he literally brought it on himself. There is a clause in the application for a fire permit that would allow his pit to be approved, by getting permission from the neighbor whose property his pit is encroaching on. We’ll see if he asks!
This past summer, our neighbors resumed use of their illegal fire pit. My husband went over there to ask about it, and the husband just mumbled something like, ‘Ya, well, you know.’
Still just wanting good relations, my husband said not to worry, it doesn’t matter, we really don’t care. We thought we showed our graciousness enough to receive the same in return.
Walking my dog in the aforementioned green space, he’s always sticking his head in gopher holes, they’re everywhere (holes and gophers). I walked up to one, one day when he took particular interest in a hole and shooed him away. The hole he was scratching at and sticking his face into was surrounded by bright blue-colored seeds. It was poison. He’d been finding the occasional dead gopher – which I thought nothing of – until now. I start searching holes. Every last one filled with this stuff.
I start thinking about my cats and dog, all the other pets that frequent this area, all of the numerous hawks and eagles that hunt here – not to mention all the young kids that play back here! There’s a reason it’s illegal for anyone but a licensed exterminator to place poison and a reason that even when they do place poison, that they are required to post warnings. We made it our mission to let everyone know what we’d discovered to prevent any injuries or fatalities. We were upset – and most everyone else was upset too.
One night, long after dark, we were walking the dog when we saw an ORKIN (exterminator) truck parked in the green space grass. The Orkin man admitted he was checking on the poison, and that he was told to check after dark because it got around that people were upset. He admitted he wouldn’t want his children playing here. He started getting upset when my husband questioned the legality of it before speeding off and almost running over my husband and dog.
Upset, we go back home and hear our neighbors on the street out front. My husband goes just to mention to them about the poison and how we were trying to let everyone know. The husband started yelling right away that ‘we need to get over it, gophers need to die,’ and ‘things are coming to a head with ‘that’ dog anyway.’
Um, what? You’re threatening our dog! Why?
He claims the dog ‘poops in his front yard.’ He claims he stepped in it and now there was poop in his house. It wasn’t impossible it was our dog, though we’re not the only ones whose dog sometimes wanders, but let’s say it was ours, for kicks and giggles. We’ve repeatedly told them if there’s ever any problem, including with the dog, just let us know. We’ll clean, replace, deal with any problem, but we can’t if you don’t let us know!
We apologized, reiterated that if that had let us know about ‘all these times,’ we would have dealt with it and that we will keep a better watch from now on. Apparently, that’s not good enough. Apparently, we have to be mind readers, and if we’re not, they’d rather do anything than just tell us outright if they have a problem. Did I mention my cat was shot shortly after we moved here? We always suspected it was them.
I fear for the lives of our animals. I’m super paranoid about their whereabouts now, because apparently, they’re not safe from the neighbors if they set foot out of our yard.
Another thing I forgot to mention, back when our neighbor reported us for having cords of wood and burning it in our woodstove, he claimed we were running an illegal business out of the back, selling wood. Which is completely false! That’s our wood to heat our house. People don’t understand the time it takes to haul, split, stack, and cure the wood. It’s not worth it for us to sell. The fire commissioner agreed on that, too. So we have a crazy winter storm that knocked out the power. We of course keep warm with our woodstove. Some family down the road came to get wood so they could cook, some friends managed to get to us in their desperation for heat and food, and we gave them wood too.
We find out, just a day ago, that our neighbor gave his daughter my husband’s cell in case she ran out of wood during the storm and power outage.
Apparently, we’re good enough to ask favors of when it’s convenient.”
“Yep, That’s Justice”
“My father had one brother – my ‘uncle’ (I use the word only as a descriptive). The two boys were basically raised by their mother; my grandmother. She was married, but her husband (my grandfather) was described as a ‘piece of work’. He apparently had trouble holding a job – or getting a job – and wasn’t able to support his family (or chose not to). However, family lore has it that he had a mistress and lived most of the time with her. This left my grandmother to raise two boys by herself during the depression and afterwards. Grandpa died in the 1950s and left her a widow with no inheritance – just bills.
My father was her oldest, so at a very young age, he began selling newspapers and magazines out of the back of his wagon. He gave all the money he earned back to his mother. His younger brother was referred to ‘as the sickly one’ and my grandmother babied him throughout his life (including into adulthood). She always made excuses for his behavior.
As an adult, my ‘uncle’ lived as if he was wealthy, though he was unable to support his lifestyle and his family. Often, his mother would have to pay his bills to keep a roof over him and his family’s heads. She took bags of groceries to them to make sure her grandchildren ate. And, once a year, took the grandkids on vacation at her own expense.
My father never complained even though he refused to take a dime from his mother – even in adulthood. She always referred to my Dad as the responsible one and made him the executor of her estate.
However, my dad died before his mom. This threw my grandmother in a panic (after the initial shock). Who could she count on to follow her wishes should something happen to her? By this time, the grandkids (my uncle’s three kids and me – my father’s only child and the youngest of all the cousins at a mere 19). While the nature choice pointed to my dad’s brother to replace him as executor and power of attorney, even my cousins didn’t trust their own father (or each other) and advised my grandmother to appoint me – the youngest – as her executrix and POA. My grandmother considered it and even approached me about it. I told her that I would honor her choice – whatever it was – and, if it was me, then I would happily honor her wishes – whatever they were. (My view, it was her money and hers to do with it whatever she wanted)
My uncle pressured her to appoint him and ultimately she gave way despite everyone advising her not to. Even his own adult children had little to do with him by this point.
The moment she appointed him he banned me from having any contact with her (he didn’t want the fiesty youngster to see what he was doing and stand up for her grandmother). Then, he cleaned out her bank account and moved all the money into an account in his name only. She was then forced to ask him for some of her own money whenever she needed or wanted something. Her requests were usually denied because he didn’t approve. (I knew these things because her neighbors told me and I worked at the place where he established the investment account – unbeknownst to him)
He also began dividing up her estate and giving things away even though she was not dead yet. The first thing he gave away was her prized organ. It was the one and only item she had ever splurged on for herself. She took lessons and occasionally played for her church. He gave it away.
Because she had given him the legal Power-of-attorney, no one had any legal right to do anything for her except herself (and she was still lucid and able – just not willing as she still considered him ‘her baby’). Thus, all who cared and loved her were forced to stand by and watch him take advantage of her.
Unable to do anything else, I knelt down one night and said a prayer. I prayed a promise not to seek revenge but asked the almighty to please look after my grandmother. Then, I asked him to deliver justice as he saw fit and only asked him to please allow me to bear witness to whatever justice he deemed reasonable.
It wasn’t long afterward, maybe a few months, that I ran into a neighbor who asked me about my uncle. Having no contact and no information, I played stupid. Well, they were just inquiring because they had heard he had been diagnosed with cancer (melanoma) on his face (from all his days out of his friend’s boat rather than working). I acknowledged their statement with a simple, ‘Oh, yeah, that,’ and claimed I didn’t have any additional information (I didn’t even know about the diagnosis until they told me).
Then, several months later, I ran into the person again. And, again, they asked about my uncle (apparently they didn’t know about the family breakdown). I again feigned stupidity and they again offered an update.
“Well, I was just wondering because I heard he had surgery to remove the cancerous growth on his face [pointing to the side of their own nose which apparently was where his cancer was located]. Anyway, I heard that the doctors had to cut out a much larger section of his face than first anticipated and he had to have a skin graph done. I heard that they had to take a portion of his rear end and graph it as it was the only area large enough to cover the space where the cancer had grown,’ the neighbor informed me.
Again, I nodded my head and replied, ‘Oh, yeah, that,’ and, we parted ways (I do love gossip sometimes).
Anyway, after the person walked away, I looked to see if anyone was around. I was by myself. Then, I held my hands up in prayer fashion, looked to the heavens, and said a thank you for fulfilling my wish. Then, I pointed towards heaven and added, ‘By the way, that’s a good one. Certainly better than anything I could do, or, for that matter, any human could accomplish. And, what a sense of humor you have. Putting his butt on his face, that’s good. Now he’s an arsehole coming and going. Yep, that’s justice!'”
“The Irony Of The Situation”
“I was coming from an appointment for my daughter the other day. This was a standing appointment twice every week, so I was used to driving this road; however, this particular time I was headed to the store for some groceries rather than going straight home. This meant I was turning right at this intersection, where I usually went left to go home. I wasn’t used to turning south at this point and was not familiar with how the traffic lights were arranged there. So I was waiting for the light to change so I could turn. What I, unfortunately, failed to notice right away is that there is a little right turn arrow a ways below the rest of the lights that had turned green. Amid all the red lights (it’s kind of a weird intersection) I didn’t see it. So there was this big pickup behind me, and I guess the driver got impatient. I don’t blame him for being frustrated, since I was holding things up. But I’m pretty sure what he did next was illegal or at the least dangerous.
He moved into the lane next to us (we were in the right turn lane, so it was a going-straight lane that he moved into) and blew past me, then turned right in front of me (he turned across my lane) and blasted on down the road. It was then I saw the green arrow, so I did turn. After this turn was a freeway entrance and a weird one at that. You cross an overpass and then the road breaks into three: left is the on-ramp westbound, the middle was eastbound, and right led into downtown. I was going east so kept to the middle. As I crossed the overpass and reached the place where the road split, I saw the truck in the right section—slowing down in an oddly bumpy fashion and pulling over on the shoulder. That’s when I saw it: he’d blown a tire. Oops.
I mean, I get that I goofed and did hold him up, but that doesn’t change the fact that what he did was illegal and potentially dangerous. And he didn’t even try to get my attention first. A friendly little honk would likely have sufficed. It usually does. Maybe he’ll try that next time. I’m glad he didn’t get into an accident and I wish him only the best. I just couldn’t help but note the irony of the situation.”
