SCHADENFREUDE
A few years ago I had to be in two places 90 miles apart at the same time. The annual meeting of the Welling Addition Homeowner’s Association is traditionally held on July 4th weekend. As the outgoing HOA President, I simply had to be there. A contested public works project was on the agenda and not all of the homeowners were on the same page. It was going to be an ugly meeting and I had to travel to Island Park and back to Idaho Falls — fast.
In Idaho Falls, the other urologists were all leaving town for the weekend — leaving me responsible for thousands of bladders. As it came down to the wire, Dr. Cannon agreed to delay his departure and cover for me until I returned. It was always comforting to have a urologist named Peter Cannon provide coverage in my absence.
The homeowner's meeting in Island Park was a dogfight. The prophecy in 2 Timothy 3:3 was fulfilled. I was conducting and the contrarians launched an early attack. It was the 4th of July weekend and there were plenty of fireworks. When the show was over, we had approved completion of the public works project and elected new leadership. The successors were younger, brighter and better looking. I find that there is a lot of that going around lately.
Usually I drove to Island Park in an SUV, loaded with provisions. That afternoon, I chose to drive my high performance Audi that I normally only drove two blocks to the hospital. As we passed Last Chance, I pushed the car a little, wanting to get back to Idaho Falls. I let the car choose a comfortable pace, passing a few trucks and campers along the way. Mary Kay and I were still talking about the meeting after we had crossed the Osborne Bridge, when I noticed that our comfortable pace was north of three digits. I checked to make sure that the speedometer was reporting miles and not kilometers and was amazed at how steady and comfortable traveling at that speed could be in a car designed for the autobahn. I briefly enjoyed the moment until we approached Swan Lake, where I resumed a more sensible and legal speed that now seemed painfully slow. Suddenly a big, black Range Rover filled my rear view mirror with his unique grille. Until I recognized that it was a British SUV, I thought he may have been the highway patrol wanting me to stop and visit about the posted speed limit. But his erratic driving gave away the fact that he was just a bozo behind the wheel of a fast car, driving way too close. For the next ten miles, his every effort to pass was greeted by oncoming traffic. He would hold back, race up, dart out, then swerve back in line to avoid a head-on collision. Mary Kay felt threatened and turned her head almost all the way around like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, trying to give him “the look.” For me, I chose to be a "model citizen of road manners and speed limit obedience," even though I was 400 twin turbo-charged horsepower-certain that my car could clean his clock. I intended to let him pass, but took some pleasure in the fact that we both were limited to driving within the speed limit due to cars traveling in both directions. The traffic lane at the top of Ashton Hill was filled with slower traffic, so I chose the passing lane. We were soon in a long line of cars traveling behind some18 wheelers that had geared down for the 6% grade. Both uphill lanes were clogged with July 4th traffic and no one could pass until we reached the bottom of the hill where there was another passing lane. I moved into the right lane. Mr. Impatient Big Black Range Rover spooled up, screamed by us, and was assuming terminal velocity as he crossed the bridge at blinding speed. I was impressed, but not as much as one of Idaho State’s finest, crossing the bridge from the opposite direction at that very moment. His radar was on and flashing red lights lit up as he whirled around, back across the bridge in hot pursuit. He went past us in a blur and shortly stopped Mr. Now Going Nowhere Fast Range Rover before he got into Ashton. As we drove past, we could clearly see the officer explaining Idaho's traffic laws to the red-faced and frustrated driver. I chose not to exhibit any Italian hand and arm signals that could have been so useful in that setting. It seemed to me to me that it was enough that he would be receiving a written "momento" of his meeting the officer. I felt even better as I imagined that his contribution to the Idaho State Highway Fund was going to be significant.
Schandenfreude is a complex emotion, where, rather than feeling sympathy towards someone’s misfortune, you experience happiness witnessing the troubles or humiliation of another. I had actually enjoyed that moment so much that I wondered if I needed to go see my bishop. By the time we entered Bonneville County, I knew that meeting with my bishop was inevitable. I had calculated that "Mr. Now-Humbled Range Rover" had the distinct possibility of having been in attendance at the Welling Addition HOA meeting. His impatient driving fit right in with the behavior model of some of contrarians. Just the possibility that he may have been at the meeting gave me enough pleasure to require penance. I also knew that I was not that far from needing repentance myself at several levels. After all I could have been the one going home with a "momento" if I had crossed paths with the ISP a few miles earlier, when my Audi thought it was on the autobahn -- and ran away with me. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
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