I am going to have to forego the list this week and address an incident I had Wednesday of last week. When something this surreal happens, it needs to be dissected.
I was picking a friend up, and arriving at my destination, I drove through a parking lot. I found myself next to a car that was trying to exit a parking space. In my mind, it would have taken as much time, if not more, for me to stop as it would have to keep moving, so I kept moving. As I pass this car I hear a barrage of curse words, so I did the only thing that I could do. I calmly raised my middle finger and showed this gentleman that he was number one in my book. Seeing this, he turns his car around and proceeds to chase me down. I notice this, and I immediately pull over to discuss the issue of his number one status.
My innocent ears are immediately assaulted with the most colorful of language. I defend my case, fire back a few rounds, and inform him that if he is in such a hurry, he’s welcome to move on. He kindly clues me in to the fact that nobody tells him what to do, so rather than waste any more time, I move on. I park at my destination 500 feet away, and my stalker proceeds to do the same.
I call my friend to inform him I arrived, and a few minutes go by. Number one then pulls up next to me, and reminds me of what a fucking faggot I am (I had totally forgotten), and warns me to beware of whom I flip off next time. I inform him of my amazement that he is wasting any more time with this, thank him, and salute him with that familiar middle finger. Unbeknownst to me, he has even more free time to discuss this. He turns his car around once again, parks behind me, gets out of his car, and moves next to my car to discuss it even further. Talk about beating a dead horse.
A further assault of swear words - think shock and awe – and frankly, I’ve reached unprecedented levels of boredom. Sensing my boredom, he decides to spice things up a bit…
...by spitting in my face. I know, I know, I would have sworn up and down that he swallowed. Imagine my surprise! I step out of my car and guess what I did? Nothing. You might think that I am well within my right to make this guy my bitch and make him call me daddy, and normally, I would have given it the old college try. Anyone that knows me is aware of that. But for some reason, all I could do was laugh. I inquired as to why in the world he would spit in my face. I mean, in my mind, this is schoolyard bullshit. I gave you the finger, you waste this much time on it, only to put the exclamation point on it by spitting? Really? Why not insult my mother or my sister? I mean, come on! I’ve taken a beating, and I’ve given some too, so let’s have at it. If you’re that upset, just give it a go. Take a swing and put your money where your mouth is.
These are all things I convey to him, and he doesn’t seem interested. He prefers to question my heterosexuality. The way I see it, he is looking for something, namely for me to take the first shot. But something about this alarms me, and so I don’t. I don’t need the hassle, and I don’t need the attention. I don’t know if this guy is a minor, or if he’s connected, or what. I know my rights, but it just isn’t worth it. My friend has arrived at this point. A few more minutes of verbal jousting go by (the stuff of a Harvard debate team) and I go on my way, warned to heed his words never to give him the finger again.
A few days have passed now, and I am still not sure what to make of this or what to take from it. Did I egg him on? Yes. Should it have gotten to the point that it did? Definitely not. I know that I can be a dick about certain things, but what this boils down to is that we had a difference of opinion. He thought I should have stopped and let him go, and I thought otherwise. I countered his swearing with my finger. Should it have gone further than this exchange? Absolutely not. I would have been perfectly at peace to have gone on my way, never to have had to deal with this ignoramus, and he should have felt the exact same thing about it and me. No harm, no foul, the saying goes.
Instead, we wasted about twenty minutes that neither one of us will ever get back, and for what? So that my newfound friend could exercise his salivary glands. Next time you want to puff out your chest like a cock (rooster, but it makes for a nice double entendre), see it to the finish, and put me down like you insinuated you could, because otherwise, you don’t intimidate me. You’re just another scared, insecure guy with big mouth. Someday, you may run into someone who doesn’t listen to that voice in his head, and my guess is you will probably regret it. Best of luck to you, chum, and take care of your brand new dark blue Honda Civic Si coupe with Missouri plates. Downtown Silver Spring, Maryland can be a strange and scary place, as I recently discovered.
