So, I was driving home from helping Jon Jon and Kallie move, and I pulled into a gas station on San Pablo to fill the tank. As I was finishing and preparing to leave (credit card back in wallet, road trip trash thrown away), one of those huge SUV’s Ponte Vedra women drive to portage small children to bus stops, pulled into the bay next to mine. Her monster-car was so close to my car, our rearview mirrors touched and even if I thought really THIN, there was no way I could get into my front seat.
So I tapped on her back window and said, “HELLO! I can’t get in my car…”
She looked over her shoulder at me, turned off the engine, got out of her car, and appeared to be preparing to pump.
I said (a little more forcefully), “Uh, excuse me? I can’t get in my car.”
She turned to me, did one of those two handed whoa gestures and said, “Calm down, okay? I mean why did you have to park so far from the gas pump anyway? How am I supposed to FIT in here?” Blonde bob – suuuuper puffy lips. I hated her instantly.
I looked over at my car, and I was parked quite far from the pump, but let’s not forget – I was already parked there and pumping when she swooped in. There were also several empty pumping bays. I suppose I could have gone around the car and climbed in through the passenger door, but I stood my ground – gob-smacked by the unfairness of it all. Ready for the fight…
She backed down, like all bullies do when I give them my mean face, and slowly (defiantly) got into her car and moved to another pump. I realize this was a petty exchange and in the grand scheme of picking one’s battles, a lame excuse to blow off steam.
As I drove home, I was thinking about how I could have handled the situation better. I’ve been reading a lot about serenity lately. About cultivating stillness. About being calm and quiet and letting God work his wonders through me. But how do you deal quietly with the unreasonableness of a BITCH ON WHEELS, on a hot day, when you’re tired and there’s nary a screw-cap wine shooter in the glove box?
So I tapped on her back window and said, “HELLO! I can’t get in my car…”
She looked over her shoulder at me, turned off the engine, got out of her car, and appeared to be preparing to pump.
I said (a little more forcefully), “Uh, excuse me? I can’t get in my car.”
She turned to me, did one of those two handed whoa gestures and said, “Calm down, okay? I mean why did you have to park so far from the gas pump anyway? How am I supposed to FIT in here?” Blonde bob – suuuuper puffy lips. I hated her instantly.
I looked over at my car, and I was parked quite far from the pump, but let’s not forget – I was already parked there and pumping when she swooped in. There were also several empty pumping bays. I suppose I could have gone around the car and climbed in through the passenger door, but I stood my ground – gob-smacked by the unfairness of it all. Ready for the fight…
She backed down, like all bullies do when I give them my mean face, and slowly (defiantly) got into her car and moved to another pump. I realize this was a petty exchange and in the grand scheme of picking one’s battles, a lame excuse to blow off steam.
As I drove home, I was thinking about how I could have handled the situation better. I’ve been reading a lot about serenity lately. About cultivating stillness. About being calm and quiet and letting God work his wonders through me. But how do you deal quietly with the unreasonableness of a BITCH ON WHEELS, on a hot day, when you’re tired and there’s nary a screw-cap wine shooter in the glove box?
