The traffic that early morning was very horrible. A bus ran into a concrete barrier along EDSA and toppled over. That was not the first time in the past weeks that a bus figured in an incident that killed or maimed people. That’s also not the first time that traffic was crawling along the entire southbound stretch.
It was rush hour traffic, everybody’s going to work. The radio traffic update said alternate routes were also loaded. I’m late for a really important meeting. As my impatience grew, my blood started to boil.
I tried to pass to the outer lane, hoping to find an alternate road. Yet, this freaking car at the right lane won’t allow me to squeeze through. I tried the right signal light. No effect. I tried gesturing to please let me pass. He didn’t budge. I was impatient. I was angry. I couldn’t contain my frustration. I’ve heard about roadrage, but roadrage seemed to be insufficient to capture how I felt at that time.
When I noticed that he slowed down, I swerved to the right, but he accelerated fast to cover the space. Bam! His bumper crumpled the front passenger door. I rolled down the rear window. He rolled down his window. “Pare, ano ba yan”, I said. He responded with: “What the #@ck are you thinking?” I didn’t let that pass, I topped it off with more expletives. He responded in kind.
Then he crouched like he was getting something under the driver’s chair. His door swung open. He stepped out of the car. I looked if he’s holding anything, something which has become a reflex through the years. I saw a gun in his right hand. I know a gun in a car has a very dangerous psychological effect on the one who owns it.
So I’d rather kill than get killed. I got my gun and, without going out of my car, pulled the trigger. Bang, bang. Bang. Three shots rang, just like my habit at the firing range. It’s supposed to be tap, tap, then tap. Two in the chest. One on the forehead. That’s at practice, though. While I didn’t know where I hit him, I could see he toppled backwards like a rag doll.
I open my eyes and the nightmare ends. That’s a scenario I run again and again in my mind. And that’s why I never, and will never, bring a gun in my car.
