So there I was, screaming at this old lady I didn't know.

You have to picture the scene. It's late afternoon and I'm driving to the gym, a medical fitness center affiliated with a local hospital. I'm about to turn into the members-only parking lot, but the driveway is blocked by a big car that's stopped halfway to the gate. I can see the little old lady behind the wheel rummaging through something, no doubt looking for the pass that goes into the scanner to open the gate.

Fifteen seconds go by. Thirty. A minute. I honk. The old lady waves her arm at me angrily. I honk again, gesturing. She waves again. I start yelling. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.

Now, I don't generally make a practice of yelling at old people. But what I was trying to communicate to her was the fact that the gate was standing open the whole time.

She no doubt thought I was just an asshole. She kept at her search, eventually found the pass, pulled forward, inserted it in the scanner, and drove into the lot through the gate that had at no point been keeping her out.

I couldn't really be upset with her. I should have been at the gym at least two hours earlier. I'm my own worst enemy too.