the driving game, drunk englishmen

monday morning i was driving into work (inbound on 59) on my motorcycle and at some point a black car of some sort got behind me (i think maybe as far out as beltway 8). i was in 3rd lane from the inside. near the westpark exit i was coming up on a slower car in the second lane, and there was another slower car in the second lane a few car-lengths ahead of it. about this time the black car popped over into the fast lane and gunned it. he went past the first car then started changing lanes into the second, inbetween the cars…then into the third lane…in one continuous sweep. i had to slow down because i could tell he was coming into my lane whether i was in the way or not. but he didn’t stop there…he then continued the sweep all the way to the exit for chimney rock.
so basically he gunned it, cut between two cars, cut me off, and crossed five lanes of traffic. why? the only possible reason i can think of, based on the events and his behaviour, was so he could get in front of me before he exited the freeway. but he had to block me off and cut across five lanes of traffic to do it. brilliant.
and people seriously think driving in houston doesn’t make you part of a game? you’re a part of it whether or not you realize it or want to be a part of it.
after work monday i took sue to a bike shop to pick up some mountain bikes she and jack had left there for some time after taking them in for repairs. i’m going to give the men’s one a try and see what i think of it. perhaps i’ll actually start getting some kind of exercise. i doubt it, but i guess it’s possible.
tuesday night i went to trivia at the flying saucer. evidently it was the last tuesday night trivia. we then headed — as tradition dictates — to sambuca. i had called brad to see if he wanted to join us, and he called back and said he was coming. around midnight sambuca was closing up shop so we headed to dean’s. on the way we ran into two rather hammered british guys who were trying to find the whiskey bar…or any bar. they came to dean’s with us. then they continued to drink, drink, and drink. they were funny, but were toasted. they were evidently both doing “security” in iraq, i believe for oil and gas companies, and one or both were ex-military. eventually the bartender cut one of them off, so he left in search of another bar. then the bartender cut the other one off. but it was about time to go anyway. we walked outside, said our goodbyes, and he headed off in the other direction.
they were supposed to be flying back to england the next day…i hope they managed to get back to their hotel room and catch their flight. they had a digital camera and we took a few pictures with me and brad and them. i gave one of them one of my personal cards that has failure.net and my email address listed. i wonder if they’ll: [1] still have the card, [2] know what the heck it is in reference to, [3] tie it to the pictures, and [4] send me a copy of them. it’ll be interesting to see if or how they remember the evening. or at least the two or so hours of it they spent hanging out at dean’s.