A Priest, A Traffic Light, And Some Stress!
This is a true story as fact is often odder than fiction. Since this happened to me I have no need to change any names to protect the deranged!
It is a sunny, and rather early spring, day, the sunroof is open to let in all the fresh smog, and Liza Minnelli is belting it out live – STRAIGHT from “Radio City Music Hall”. Not quite a leisurely drive but not complete hell either.
I’m driving through the leafy canopied suburb of Houghton. This is where the old money in Johannesburg used to live and every yuppie has mortgaged a rope around the neck to own a tiny new townhouse that no dead cat could be seen swinging around in!
I had spotted a shiny little dark blue car behind me several kilometres back but paid no more attention than to note its presence. After dodging several slow moving nitwits in the fast lane and now driving sedately I slow down to wait at a red traffic light. YES! I am the odd exception in Johannesburg. I DO stop at traffic lights! Not a hawker in sight!
After a short few seconds there is a knocking on my side window and I looked up somewhat surprised. I had not seen a glimpse of a beggar or street hawker or even a vender in my line of vision or in any mirror! I am quite alert to these relentless stalkers! In South Africa it is not uncommon to have a gaggle of beggars and street vendors pounce en masse from thin air! Literally! It is like a “Star Trek” teleporting apparition from hell’s sales department!
Expecting someone trying to milk money from my-unemployed-self, I am instead staring into a beaming blue eyed man sporting a priest’s collar with modern dress. Momentarily surprised, I simultaneously turn down the volume on Liza Minnelli’s ample vocals and press the window button. See? Men can multitask!
Rather breathlessly, having just dashed from his vehicle behind me to my car’s window, he splutters, “You look rather stressed back there and I was wondering if you needed someone to say a prayer for you?”
The traffic light is now turning green, and all I can say is, “No, thank you!”
The kindly priest dashes back to his shiny new little blue car, now holding up the less than patient Johannesburg traffic and I drove off like my usual brisk, stressed self!
I am still unused to the new brand of drive by Catholicism!
The stress is waiting at home… Note to self; enquire about stronger Rat Poison.
