I met one of the angels here yesterday.

I was driving through central LA at around one this afternoon. It wasn’t the worst traffic I have seen so far, but it was certainly the worst traffic I have ever dealt with at one in the afternoon. Interstate 5 may as well have had stop signs every mile or so. At least the congestion patterns would make sense. The cars move in tiny little clumps until they bump into the clump ahead of them. It’s as though the freeway is just one big intestinal track, with little villi patting each car on the back as it scoots along with the rest of the millions.

The car behind me happened to be diarrhea. It was chugging along at what felt like 65 miles per hour, as most flu viruses. 65 miles per hour is basically parked in Los Angeles when the traffic is moving, but it has a more rest-of-the-world implication during gridlock. It happens to be pretty fast when the next thing in front of you is my 0-miles-per-hour bumper.

So this high-speed diarrhea shit bullet is barreling west on I-5 toward Santa Monica, completely oblivious to the rest of the congested digestive freeway around it, and once again, in front of it. My rear bumper, which, by definition, implies it’s there in case of a bump — not a high-speed diarrhea shit bullet. The problem is that the person in front of me had just slammed her brakes, and I didn’t have anywhere to go, making me the very back end of the constipation. The bullet happened to be a great big black SUV of little distinguishable form, other than American-made. This left me sitting in my car, concerned not nearly as much about the accident I was about to be in, but more about the horrid thought of death-by-ugly-American-SUV, and how that would really not do justice to my generally earth-friendly granola view of the world.

That’s when I met the angel! I’m pretty sure angels aren’t so much celestial beings when they’re hanging out in Los Angeles, because if they were I’m sure the whole city would operate differently. This one happened to show up in mind of the driver of the bullet. It manifested as the well-timed realization that the shoulder to my left was a much better place to come to a screeching halt than five feet into my poor bumper. Through unblinking eyes, I see the SUV scrape its way to a halt right next to me. I smiled and waved, because at this point it was more of a situation of gratitude. The SUV behind the bullet, which must’ve been the white blood cell tailgating the shit bullet, was going just as fast, and it also realized this in time. It swooped to the right, stopping on my other side. I waved again. I sat there for a moment not in panic or shock, but mostly just because the car in front of me hadn’t moved yet. The traffic started scooting onward, and I was kindly let in by the bullet and the blood cell, a bizarre show of reverence for the typically-ignored right-of-way.

Angels are probably everywhere. If everyone really has one, then there are millions in the area. Sometimes they probably do all kinds of things to help people out, but I’m glad that my angel manifested itself this time as a simple a-ha! in the mind of a fellow driver.


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