A Cure for Road Rage

A Cure for Road Rage

The short version.

The Evil Hippy and I were driving to the McKenzie Arena in Chattanooga, to see a WWE house show. We're waiting at a stoplight next to the arena. The light turns green, and a car in the oncoming lane decides that he doesn't need to wait for us to go before he turns.

He darts in front of us, and I'm doing my best to let him know that he's an asshole, when I realize who just cut me off.

It was Matt Hardy, his own self.

It assuaged the road rage.

I went from "What's this asshole doing?" to "Hey! That's Matt Hardy" in the space of a half a second.

Yep. Star Struck. It cures road rage. At least temporarily.

It gave him enough time to get away before I started getting mad about getting cut off again.

Star struck, although if I hadn't been paying attention, I'd have been star struck in that Matt Hardy-running-his-car-into-my-truck kind of way. Because Matt needed into the arena, apparently, and Now.