Answer

It was 530 am and the starbucks drive-thru was already hopping. There were two lanes to order from, but only one had a lit menu. I chose that side, despite the car waiting impatiently at the microphone for the other. After placing my order, I pulled ahead towards the pickup window, where the two lines merged. The car still waiting at the darkened lane honked angrily, and a hand shot out displaying the middle finger.

I had a terrible head cold and already felt miserable anticipating my 24 hrs of trauma call ahead. When he did that I considered my options and very nearly went with my first thought— to slam on the parking break, hop out and give somebody an in-the-face lecture on manners. If he couldn’t figure out that lane was closed, how was this MY fault?? I was tired of this kind of bullshit.

But I live in Arizona. I was likely to get shot doing that.

Next I considered giving him the finger back. I leaned on the window switch, but it was locked, and that allowed me thirty seconds to reconsider.

I felt like shit.

But maybe he felt like shit, too.

Flipping him the bird would just feed into both of our foul moods.

I reached the pickup window, still stewing, and finally managed to lower the car pane. “.25,” a teenager named Robin chirped at me, and as I dug into my pocket for my card, wondering how a small cup of tea could possibly add up to over four dollars, the ultimate revenge for the rude driver behind me occurred to my tired brain—-

“And I’ll pay for the car in back of me,” I told Robin.

She smiled. “Pay it forward, huh?”

“Well. Something like that.” I accepted my tea and my card back, waved cheerfully into my rearview mirror, and pulled away, feeling one less thing was wrong with the world.