Common courtesy, my ass

what bothered me most about it wasn’t that we ended up missing the vocal stylings of marty & elayne; it wasn’t that i was, for the five millionth time, mistaken for a 19-year-old; it wasn’t that had i ordered a midori sour instead of a fist of fury my brain would have been working better but because that drink kicks my ass every time it took me so long to process anything.

no. what bothered me most about being berated by a bitter, old man on a quiet residential street at midnight because we didn’t move our car when he thought we would and were so focused on solving our problem that we neglected to let him know that the parking space was not, in fact, free was that he accused us of lacking “common courtesy” and proceeded to viciously attack us. we apologized over and over again, but apparently in the Bitter Old Man’s Dictionary, “i’m sorry” is not an acceptable substitute for “i apologize” and he would not let it go. when i asked him to please keep his voice down because i was calling AAA, he purposely raised his voice a few more decibels and poor ms. triple A couldn’t hear a word i was trying to say. as i recall, common courtesy doesn’t mean shouting at the top of your lungs, wagging your finger and refusing to accept apologies.

i don’t know who did what to this old man to make him act that way — maybe hipster kids called him names or blocked his driveway or TP-ed his beautiful house — but there was no need for that. none at all.

in a moment of clarity, i figured out how to shut the door halfway so we could drive home, but i had to hold on to the door handle so that it wouldn’t swing open. back at my house, we soothed our nerves with a coke and a krispy kreme. it hit the spot.

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