Last Friday I met a friend for coffee at one of our local coffee shops. I know, I know. I didn’t “check-in” on Facebook or post filtered pictures of my Vegan Coconut Orange Walnut on Instagram, but I swear I really did leave my house and my friend really does exist.
Anyway, I arrived early to assure myself a parking space directly in front of the cafe, since it was raining hedgehogs and lemurs (I’m a writer. I had to made that clichéd metaphor my own). There were two spots available when I first got there, but I had to double back to my house. When I returned, there were was a pickup truck and one remaining spot. No big deal, right? So I prepare to parallel park. I subsequently hit the curb. Then I did the “inchworm dance” with my car. Out, then in. Out, then in. Shimmying myself into the spot behind the pickup truck. The entire time I’m doing this, my windshield wipers working a furious overtime so I don’t hit anything else, there’s a man standing in front of the coffee shop, under the awning. He’s not smoking a cigarette. He’s not on the phone. Just standing there. And just as I am about to successfully make it into my parking spot, he jumps into the pickup truck in front of me and drives off.
Are you $%&#ing kidding me?
He couldn’t wave me down? Tell me to hold on a sec? Put some giddy in his yup and hop in his truck a moment or two sooner so I could pull in easily?
What a jerk.
But you know what? Blood in the Past comes out very soon, so I’m trying to focus on that. 😀