I was first in line at a traffic signal on the way back from work. Because I spied a BMTC bus on the road perpendicular, I ignored the impatient honking that started from behind me as soon as the light turned green. I've never seen those things stop at bus stops, much less a red light, and me claiming right of way would normally result in a loud crash, broken glass, general death and destruction all around, and a very small dent on the bus. But this guy jumped on the brakes and brought the bus, rubber burning, screeching to a halt just before the white line. There was astonishment all around - and not just from the vehicles right behind him.
Last week, I saw a David Lynch movie, Inland Empire, which bored me so absolutely that, by the end of it, I'd caught up on all the correspondence that had been piling up for two weeks. I also started a Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures, that I've not quite warmed to. It's funny and everything, but while I enjoy his humourous cynicism when he delves into topics like religion, I find it hard to take when he points it at something I love. How can anyone be irreverent and anything less than passionate about the movies?
At the next intersection (no lights), I had to take a right. A guy coming up opposite, who had up till then been plodding along, suddenly came to life, blinked his lights and sped up to make sure I wouldn't take the turn. As soon as he passed by me, he slowed down again.