and drives an RX7. I met him today.
Well, I didn’t actually meet him, thank God (and I mean that). I saw him driving on I395.
I was minding my own business, paying close attention to all things in front of, behind, and around me, including my blind spot. As I merged into traffic I came behind this little car. A car that definitely doesn’t have any fear factor all on its own. Upon further inspection I realized the owner of the car overcame his penis envy with his license plate.
We’ve all seen the run of the mill cocky license plates:
This dude’s plate read, “LUCIFER”. No, I am not joking. He beat out every other guy in VA (or were they DC plates?) for the honor of owning that one. Is he expecting to pick up chicks with that? If so, he might have to fight Marilyn Manson. Only certain chicks dig someone who likes to refer to themselves as Lucifer. And to be honest, I don’t really know if MM refers to himself as Lucifer, but he might as well. My guess is that this guy is just trying to scare everyone because his commute really sucks. With the way people drive around here it never hurts to have any kind of edge on the next driver. Knowing you’re driving next to Satan might make you think twice about cutting him off or not letting him merge.
As if that wasn’t enough, I pulled up beside him just to see what the creep who uses that for his plates looks like. Please take a guess at what I saw. Got a mental image? Wrong.
Lucifer was wearing a white, plastic Jason-type mask. While driving.
I so wanted to get a picture for my blog reading peeps, you know, do my blogging duty, but could never get close enough again. I had my phone, camera on, propped on the steering wheel, ready to snap. Can you imagine?! The king of the underworld, driving on the inner loop, looks over at this preppy soccer mom in a huge SUV with a pink phone aimed at him motioning for him to slow down a little, maybe strike a pose? Probably a good thing I couldn’t catch up with him because he probably would have chased me down and sacrificed me to the gods of the beltway. This is the best I could do:
I could see his mask in his side mirror, I so wish that would have shown up in this picture. You can’t even see what the license plate says. But you know.