As the car blocking the lane behind me moved forward I took my foot off the brake and started backing up out of my angle parking spot while looking over my right shoulder. The car parked to my right was going to wait, the car across from me was going to wait, and as I was about half way out of my spot I looked back over my left shoulder to see the giant truck parked to my right backing up and turning toward our car.
Recently Bitsy and I took a long long drive way up into the heart of British Columbia to attend a wedding. To say it was a long long drive is an understatement but thank you Tom Cruise for the modern freeway. Stories from that part of the province trickle down to the big city like folklore.
I’d been told of the horrors that awaited me which included horseflies that will bite chunks of flesh out of your bare skin, or bite right through your clothes. No proper toilets, no electricity, no cellular service and no running water awaited us at the site of the wedding. Oh, and no Starbucks for 150 miles. This is the kind of bull shit story we like to sell to Americans to keep them south of the border and I was going someplace where it wasn’t a lie. I kept my fingers crossed that our igloo would have a nice pelt to sleep on.
We arrived on the second hottest day of the year, one day in advance of the wedding. Anybody want to venture a guess as to the hottest day of the year? You’re a bright penny, yes, the day of the wedding was blazing hot with no shade to spare some relief. You’re probably thinking if you’re that far north, how hot could it be? The first day was 87 and the second 88. That’s nothing compared to some of the temps you’ve been getting south of the border, but really? For us? We might as well vacation on the sun while drinking Tabasco and eating habanero peppers to cool off.
The wedding and related events went well, even without those luxuries we take for granted. We didn’t sustain any injuries greater than a sunburn (Bitsy). It was the day after the wedding, and time to go home that it was time to go all city asshole on the country folk. We’d gotten on the road mid-morning and we were thinking about getting something inexpensive, quick, and could be eaten on the road for lunch. Our fast food options were few, but the Dairy Queen looked promising from the street.
What the nicely renovated front of the DQ hid was the nightmare of a parking arrangement behind. With only one entrance and one exit, the horseshoe shaped parking lot was doomed from conception. Our mistake was immediately apparent and I took the first spot I could find. There was a car parked to my right, but an empty space to my left. While Bitsy checked out the interior of the DQ, I took Louis for a “business trip” to the adjacent green space.
When I came back I discovered that an asshole with an enormous truck had parked over the line at an angle so that I couldn’t open my door more than 10 inches. I’d centred up our small car right between the lines when I parked but it didn’t matter. Bitsy returned and warned me that she’d smelled horse barns that smelled better than the facilities so I took my chances at the rare, but not unheard of door handle acquired case of VD and went in.
The owner of the truck and his spawn returned to their truck while I was inside and Bitsy gave ‘em the stink eye as they carefully climbed back into their rig. Upon my return the parking lot was completely hooped. Cars backed up to the entrance, looping all the way around to the drive through and nobody who wanted to back out from a parking space could. Everybody who was parked wanted to leave, and everyone who wanted drive-thru was in too big of a hurry to let that happen.
With the car in reverse I waited and saw the opportunity arise to go. The car to my right and the one across behind me saw me go and they waited, but not Mr. Douche Nozzle* in the truck. My window was down and he was inches away from impact as I yelled and then slammed my fist repeatedly into the side of his truck.
“What?” He shouted back, “I was backing up first.”
“Oh Fuck Off, and learn how to park,” I yelled back at him loud enough for his kids, the entire parking lot, perhaps even the entire town to hear.
He had nothing to say to that. With a grunt he turned his front wheels and drove through the three empty parking spaces next to him.
I’d had enough of that town and enough of DQ for a long while so without eating we got back on the road and back to the big city where yelling at assholes is less of a battle, and more of a hobby.
One tip, for any assholes who like to park like an asshole: Don’t drive a vehicle with the name of your business and the city you live in on the side of it.
*anyone else watch Storage Wars a couple weeks ago and see Barry use “Douche Nozzle” [bleeped of course] to describe Dave? Priceless.