This has happened to us all. Rainy day, long commute. All that stands between you and the stiff drink-good steak combo that will wipe away this miserable day is a place to leave your SUV. Been driving around the mall parking lot for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes, heck, with the price of crude these days, you may as well be burning twenties as burning gas.
Then you spy it out. That guy, approaching his car...is he?...YES, he's pulling out. Thank god! And then, just as you throw it into gear, here comes some woman in an old Saturn to snake that space you were waiting for, the promised land of parking that would let you hurry up and try to salvage some small part of this lousy day.
I have been there, dude. I have been idling just where you were, waiting my turn, patiently, like they taught us in kindergarten. I have watched as the space that was so rightfully mine has been slicked out from under me, usually by a woman or a man driving a much faster and smoother car. I know how it feels. The rage builds, you really do see everything in red for an second, and you can feel the pressure rising up along with your urge to smack the hell out of the other driver. I always imagine myself as one of those cartoon thermometers that shoots up to the very top and boils over with whistling tea kettle sound effects. And just like you, I've had to make a choice in that instant: what form is my righteous indignation going to take?
For me, there's always a big dramatic sigh, rolling eyes heavenward and musing to myself about what has happened to civility in this country. I'll even cop to the occasional muttered curse word or two as I drive off in search of another space. However, SUV-guy, I noticed you took a more outward-directed approach: confrontation. And I noticed, because I was the woman in the beat-up old Saturn. The one being confronted. Your shrink must have been so proud.
"You stupid bitch!" You leaned out of window, your face absolutely contorted with hate. (By the way, I don't know if you have ever seen your rage face, like in a photo or on a video or something, SUV-guy, but you should really check it out. Your clothes, hair and car may say
Esquire magazine, but your rage face turns the whole ensemble into a Springer-can moment.) "F--king, bitch!. You saw me waiting for that space, you fat bitch! You hear me talking to you, ni--ger bitch! You get outta that car! You hear me talking! I will get you later, bitch!"
Okay, way over the top, SUV-guy, even under the circumstances. What did you think that was going to accomplish?
I saw you waiting there. Don't think for minute I didn't wrestle with my conscience a little bit. But here is what you didn't know, having driven off the potential for civilized discourse with your tantrum:
1.)Between the traffic and rain, I was an hour late for an event I had been planning to attend for a month. 2.) The space in question was technically mine, as I had actually asked the guy who was leaving for it as he passed me on the other side of the lot. I was merely swinging around to follow him to the spot. And 3.) I have never snaked a parking spot before in my life; you just happened to be the unlucky one at the moment I found my spine and decided that my needs were just as important as the rest of the world and decided to take what I needed. My shrink would be so proud.
SUV-guy, I can't help but wonder if your reaction might have been different if you were alone in the car. I noticed the dolled-up brunette at your side. Were you trying to muscle-up in front of her, so that you wouldn't appear weak? Let me give you a bit of advice: hurling spitting invective and threats over stupid stuff, like parking spaces, spilled drinks, and bungled appetizer orders actually loses you major cool points in the eyes of most women. And if she is one of those girls who likes to see her man Hulk-out every ten minutes, then I wish you luck, cause you have bigger problems than where to park your Escalade.
You know, I didn't mind the "fat" insult. That word lost its power long ago with me. I didn't even mind "bitch" so much; from your perspective, I can even see how that might apply. But why, SUV-guy, did you feel the need to go to the "N-word"? Why drag race into something that it had absolutely nothing to do with? Was it your way of trying to hurt me back? If so, that's sort of like returning an accidental elbow brush with a full body-check into the boards, isn't it? And in this day and age, it's taking an awful risk, don't you think? Sure, today you picked on a civilized, college-educated woman who thinks rationally and abhors violence. But the next time it happens, how do you know you won't get a pistol-packing mama who thinks any public dis should be met with gunfire? Something to consider, isn't it?
Well, anyway. It's days later. The sun is shining, I'm not late for anything. I let a mom with two cranky kids cut in front of me at the grocery to earn back some of my karma. I wonder SUV-guy, if you did anything to earn back yours?
