Before I begin this little story, I’d just like to point out that I am a VERY patient person. I’m also very courteous, and am somewhat of a chicken when it comes to confrontation. In fact, I’m the worst person to try and argue with, because I’ll inevitably back down at the slightest hint of disagreement, and will often burst into tears – frustrating for everyone concerned.
So it came as a big shock to myself, and to Tiny, and to Tall when I told him, that I experienced a rather large jolt of carpark rage a week or so ago.
It was a busy afternoon at the supermarket in question, and I’d been circling round and round for over 5 minutes, searching for a parking spot. Lucky old me – I finally see a woman getting in to her car, so I stop, put my indicator on, and wait patiently for her to pull out. I notice a car coming from the other direction, and I think, rather gleefully, to myself, “Tee hee – good luck finding a park, sucker!”
And they did. They found MY parking spot. This WOMAN in this BLUE car nipped STRAIGHT INTO the parking space I’d searched HIGH-AND-LOW for.
And that’s when the rage gripped me. I threw my hands up in disgust. I tooted my horn violently (as violently as a little Mazda3 horn can be tooted….oh, to have been driving Tall’s gas-guzzling Holden that day). I gestured obscenely out the window. I swore loudly, causing Tiny to look up from trying to unbuckle his harness. I tooted again. There was a young man shifting trolleys who obviously thought I was off mine, but I didn’t care. “You stole my spot!” I yelled, failing to roll down my car window even a smidgen. “I was indicating! It was mine! Hey, lady, it was MY SPOT!”
And I still needed a parking spot. I was fuming. As I pulled into a space a few cars down, I watched as THAT WOMAN got out of her car, and I tooted at her again as she walked past. She was oblivious. To top it all off, she didn’t even go into the supermarket. “This is for CUSTOMERS only!” I shouted from behind the safety of my car windows.
As I got Tiny out of the car, I was shaking with the adrenaline, and it took until I reached the soothing aisle of international foods for me to calm down completely. I’m sure I was probably muttering my way through the aisles until that point, but I’m hoping people thought I was just blathering away to my boy, which I do normally in the supermarket.
I felt better for the yelling.