I glare towards the horizon at the tunnel of red lights that impede my 9:00 am arrival. Although I suspect that each light will change to green as I approach, the red eyes topple me into frustration and an increasing sense of urgency. My friends and I have been pining for homes since January, and when I finally secure a house tour at 9:00 am on a Tuesday, I am the only one that can attend. Despite the 9:00 am projection from Google Maps, these lights are going to make me late and, consequently, make me seem unprofessional to the woman I am meeting.
As I surmised, each light flips to green just as I begin to commit my foot to the brake pedal. After a jerky drive down most of the street, my Saint Peter loomed in the distance as the sole deciding factor in my timely arrival. His arms were opening and welcoming; the last light was green.
If you drive or have paid attention while in a car, you might have experienced the feeling of knowing that a green light will turn yellow before you get to the intersection. Maybe this notion stems from a subliminal timer that tracks the duration of the green light. Or maybe it is an intrinsic, gut feeling. A silent, suspenseful moment where you understand what will happen, but not exactly when.
Such a phenomenon occurred as I accelerated towards the intersection. If I missed this light, I would, without a doubt, be late to this house showing. But I am not one to run lights; if I can stop, I will stop. So when the light transitioned to yellow, I stopped.
A driver two lanes to my right isn’t the type of person that stops for yellow lights, or at least they weren’t on this day. As I stop my car, my envy swells as I watch this navy blue vehicle sneak through our waning yellow light. They won’t be late to wherever they are going.
I don’t notice our light turn to red; as soon as I stop I glance at Google Maps to confirm my next turn. Only moments after my eyes dart to my phone, a metallic crashing sound rips them back to the road in front of me. A white truck barrelled from the intersecting street and t-boned the navy blue car.
The van came from our left, so had I decided to run the light, it would have been my car that spun out in the intersection. My car whose pieces flew out into the road. My Tuesday that would have been turned upside down just so that I wouldn’t be two minutes late to a house tour.
But I decided to stop at the light, and I was two minutes late. My Tuesday went on as usual.