Double Flee A

Today as I was leaving work the parking lot had a traffic jam in it. The lever arm wasn't working the way it should have been and the cashier had to keep coming out and raising it by hand. A car would get out and then the next car would pull up and its driver would bitch about how long it took them and that they should get a discount for the extra time, because they shouldn't have to pay for the time they were stuck trying to get out, making the whole process take even longer for all the other people in line, who would all say the exact same shit when they got to the little brown man working his ass off in the freezing weather to make money for his boss. This process was ridiculous and there was no way it was going to change, sort of like tv in the airports, tuned in at fifty grillion megadecibels to:

THE MOST TRUSTED NAME IN NEWS [BATTLE MUSIC]!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If it weren't for the stupid fake security checks and the tv shit, traveling wouldn't be so bad. I wouldn't mind waiting for a plane. As it is, I'd prefer to drive cross country than fly.

Anyway, the situation was this: two lanes of traffic were merging in the parking ramp. They were merging at the rate of, well, when I pulled up my car was frozen solid, and by the time it moved at all, it was warm and toasty, so at least fifteen minutes at idle speed. Fifteen minutes I was sitting there stationary, the lady facing me inching foward, halfway through a turn. The lady behind her motioned to me to go in front of her, which was very sane and diplomatic; the right thing to do in that situation is to take turns. Now, the car in front of me had moved just enough for me to squeeze the corner of my car between it and the lady's car that had just motioned to me that it was ok if I went first. And at that moment, with me thinking "why would I go into that tiny spot?" and waving "thank you, I will in a minute", the lady behind me honked.

The lady behind me was driving a DESTROYER 9,000!! I am unimpressed by giant plastic mock-war toys.

I opened my door and looked at her. She turned to what I think was her daughter but may have been a pet monkey, and they laughed, the way people laugh when they are nervous that someone is about to feed them dirty snow until they cry. I continued to stare until the laughter died down and a profound uneasiness had set in. Then I gave her the finger, closed my door, and stayed where I was. The stupid bitch. Do not honk at people, especially if you are a moron, under circumstances which will draw attention to your complete freedom from intelligence.

People: can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em.

posted by dale @ 9:30 PM