by Rachel Mills
I’m in the parking lot at the local consumer nirvana (mall) and I find a parking spot, barely notice the back of an SUV in front of me and pull in. I hear a horn as I get out. The SUV has backed up behind me and its owner has gotten out of it to confront me as I journey towards higher retail consciousness. Hold up, hold up, she says. I was about to back into that spot when you took it. That’s my spot, she says. Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t have a blinker on, you were pulled ahead of me, and I didn’t know. I’m in a hurry, says I, and try to get past her. No, no, says she. We’re about to get into it for real, cause that’s my spot. I am dead on real here, or something, says she.
I don’t know what her momma taught her, but my mother taught me to pick my battles, and getting into a catfight or getting my tires flattened over a parking spot is not one of them. So I move my car, shocked that it means that much to her. Wow. I’m sure she thinks she’s standing up for her rights, not letting the white girl push her around or something, but to me she just comes off like a rude bitch. (No one backs into a spot at the mall. No one. She was going too fast and saw the spot as she drove right by it, just as I pulled into it, is my guess. A female, driving a huge SUV, *backing* into an itty-bitty mall parking spot? Doubtsies. But what-EV-a.)
Mike and I go to a matinee showing of Spiderman 2, and miss the memo that it is single parent with 3 babbling/whining kids day. There were three strollers, and at least 5 families with infants in that theater. Why on earth do movie theaters *not* have a minimum age policy? Or on-site child care for an extra charge? They’d make a killing, and poof! there goes the no-babysitter excuse for tons of people not going to the movies. These are solutions, of course, to the problem of people who have no common courtesy or concept of how to behave in public. We put up with it, but informed the corporate office of the problem and our suggested solutions.
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