The act of extending the Bird (aka “the finger”) is a rude and disrespectful act, which is often done in response to a rude or disrespectful act. It is a mythical bird – at least one, but perhaps an entire flock – that flies around visiting people. And sometimes, people have a very good reason for extending the Bird, even at the happiest place on Earth.
The Bird recently surprised me with a memorable visit on the Foothill Freeway in Los Angeles, as our family headed out of town for a 4th of July weekend getaway to Disneyland.
I was dwelling, no doubt, on the fact that we had driven this very patch of road just three days prior. On that wonderful occasion we were heading to our health-plan’s nearest approved emergency room. Normally I do most of the family driving, but that day I was crumpled in the passenger seat, writhing in excruciating pain as a kidney stone meandered through the various pinch-points in my urinary tract. They say the only thing more painful than a kidney stone is giving birth. At least when you give birth, you get something for your troubles (Tadaaa! A baby!) Me? I’m looking at two or three days of straining my pee with a makeshift coffee filter in the hopes of catching a rock shooting out of my penis. No baby, just intense pain, yielding a worthless, non-cuddly lump of calcium oxalate.
So I try to endure the pain, while my wife heroically navigates the bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic to get me to the ER. She suggests I try some Lamaze breathing (hee-hee-hoo, hee-hee-hoo), which I embrace because it’s the only thing I’ve got until I can get some real intravenous pain relief. And that is when our minivan is rammed by a truck. This is when I started to cry. Although this turned out to be a relatively minor three-vehicle freeway collision, it was nevertheless unpleasant. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Eventually we get to the ER, and the staff administers a heavenly cocktail of IV medicine, followed by a CT Scan (which confirms the stone), and sends me home with the heretofore-mentioned pee strainers. After three days of pee prospecting, my little rock arrives. Eureka! She was 3.7 millimeters long and weighed a fraction of a gram. So cute. I thanked my doula (which was my left hand).
Gregory Harrison – you just passed a kidney stone! What are you going to do now? I’M GOING TO DISNEYLAND! Which brings me back to the Foothill freeway and the Bird.
As I mentioned, we were on our way to Disneyland. Suddenly a little teen punk cuts directly in front of our minivan, and then cuts off someone else in the adjoining lane. Apparently he needed to exit. Whew. Our recent accident left me uninterested in repeating the tête-à-tête. Shortly after that, I found myself driving next to the little teen punk, and I did what any responsible adult would do in my position: I gave him my oh really? look. I have perfected this look. It involves a sidewise glance, coupled with furrowing of eyebrows in concert with a half Elvis lip-snarl. Apparently, I must have knocked my oh really? look out of the park. Upon receiving my said look, the little teen punk was so enraged that he missed his exit, cut back into my lane right behind me and flipped me the Bird. With verve. I savored the moment via my rear-view mirror, proud that I was able to cause so much rage with my glance.
Cut to Disneyland.
I am sitting in a passenger seat, next to my seven year old son, who is driving. We are stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic in Tomorrowland on the ride known as “Autopia” (an ironic combination of the words “automobile” and “utopia”). Ten cars are stacked in front of us on the track, motionless, with more piling up behind us. The reason for the pile-up is that an asshole (from the future, I’m guessing) has decided to take the perfect photograph of his child sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Autopia. I try to relax. I have no problem with people holding up everybody else’s fun to take a photo. But when twenty cars are stacked up, that’s just rude. And suddenly I reacted to that rudeness. And that perfect photograph now includes a man, ten cars back, extending his middle finger. And now you know why I flipped someone the Bird at Disneyland, the happiest place on Earth… oh really?
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