Vegas Envy

I love to travel; and I love to play poker.

So, you will understand the extreme jealousy I am experiencing whilst perusing the myriad Vegas trip reports.

With only three days remaining in my present job, and two weeks holidays awaiting me, I really should be in a better mood.

Maybe it's the Vegas envy. Maybe it's withdrawal symptoms, since I've barely had time to wield mouse or chip in December. Maybe it's frustration that whenever I do, the results are against me - no matter how far ahead I am when the chips go in.

Whatever the reason, some local apprentice chose the wrong person to get gallus with in front of his workmate.

Ambling to work, across the industrial estate within which my hi-tech office was bizarrely planted, I crossed the path of a van exiting the plumbers merchant's yard.

It's worth mentioning this is a very wide exit road, with no pedestrian footpath.

In my typically semi-conscious early morning state, at first I barely noticed the van.

The exit is clearly marked as a 'Give Way' junction, and I'd be halfway across before the van got there.

Despite this, I'd usually stop and let it past - if the driver showed any sign of behaving courteously by slowing down.

That might seem a slightly perverse attitude, but generally I like to reward good behaviour rather than grumble about bad. I'm always polite to people until they are impolite to me, at which point I'll simply reflect and amplify their own impoliteness.

If the shop assistant says 'please'; I'll say 'thank you'. If they ignore me and continue chatting to their mate about what they did at the weekend, I'll butt in and talk right over them. Seems fair to me.

Returning to this morning, after crossing the road I heard a voice, but not the words it uttered. I glanced quizzically over my shoulder just as the van pulled alongside me.

The driver - who looked like he'd never needed a shave in his life - was smirking up at me, and I could see he had a passenger.

'Haw mate. This is a road.'

Pop...

'Yeah, and that's a Give Way sign! Can you drive? Do you HAVE a license? Can you read a road sign?'

If I'd turned green and burst out of my clothes, he couldn't have looked more surprised.

Jaw sagging, his gaze returned to the road, and off he drove - without a word more spoken.

Work today feels infinitely more bearable than usual.