You can’t tell me what to do anymore!

So this morning, on my way to work on a rainy day, I sat at the light on the corner, waiting to make a right hand turn. It’s a strange four-way intersection where each direction gets their own turn, and there’s a NO TURN ON RED sign, so I sat there patiently. I must have not triggered the sensor or something, because I sat through a cycle. After a minute, I see some movement in my rearview, and see the woman in the vehicle behind me get out of the car.

“Oh great,” I wonder to myself, as she approaches my window. She knocks on the glass and bends down to speak to me as I roll it down.

“There’s something wrong with this light, you’ve got to move!” she says.

I instantly recognize her.

“Frisch?!” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, as the light turns green anyway.

“Hi, I’m Ron Brown.”

“I know, honey.”

“Well, good to see you,” I say as I drive off.

Being told what to do by your high school English teacher after more than 13 years since graduation is a surreal experience, let me tell you.

Especially when you’re obeying the law and she’s apparently ridiculously impatient.