Rage

The Lebanese on average have a shorter fuse than other great civilizations; but put a Lebanese dude or dudette behind the wheel and the whole concept of a fuse instantaneously combusts. I witness road ragers go at it on a daily basis. Most of the time I watch amused from afar wishing I had a camera on me to capture these priceless moments; when drivers burst out of their running cars and punches are exchanged for a couple of minutes until traffic moves again and everyone rushes back to their cars and order is restored. The sudden start and abrupt end to the fight always fascinates me. Sure, the insults hurled by the drivers resonate long after they driven away, but it does end and never escalates beyond the initial round.

Yesterday was different. I saw the familiar signs of an impending fist fight developing in slow motion, but unlike any other time I rushed to the scene to seperate the raging fighters. See normally I would not want to get soaked with men's sweat and risk catching an errant disfiguring blow to the face. God knows how long the waiting list for plastic surgeons is in this country. This time though, I felt safe. The reason I felt so secure about my ability to seperate the fighters cleanly was because the two men combined over 150 years of wisdom, age, and rage. The younger one, relatively speaking, did get on my nerves though when he reached for a wrench and wanted to "really hurt" the one that could barely walk. My "Bas Ya Wled, 3ayb" did nothing, neither did the warnings about the heart failure risk they face since their excitement level was much higher than it would ever get with that blue pill. But they did start gasping for air after a minute and withdrew back into their vehicles, or maybe it was my threat to go go Chapter 7 on their asses.

In any case, I'm confident they'll eventually outgrow this aggressive stage just like I'm confident that our Lebanese politicians will eventually do what is best for the country.