the lesson

So I'm currently taking driving lessons. I figure, If Mr. Bean can drive, why can't I? This morning I had my first hands-on experience. I wish I can say that it was a Kodak moment.

See, the instructor assigned to me was this middle-aged freak named Chris. I chose to remember him for two things and two things only: the burn marks on his face that made him look like a Chernobyl victim or something, and his bad temper for errors big and small. The latter meant big-assed trouble. Since I was a beginner, meaning someone with zero experience on the driver's seat, therefore prone to dozens of errors, he practically tore me apart, limb by limb, his nose smoking and all, perhaps cursing his job at the same time. And because subtlety was not his style, I went home feeling like a dunce. So much for "our friendly and professional instructors," I guess.

When Charmaine asked me what've I learned on my first day of driving, I told her, "To keep my cool in front of an asshole." Deep inside I wish that's the last time I would've to deal with someone who's one bad day away from turning into The Incredible Hulk. That lesson is easy to learn, but admittedly hard to practice.