wrong side of the bed March 25, 2006
Today, I had to go to Loyola Law School for another mini-course. I resented the intrusion on my Saturday, but this is just one more time-eating hoop that I have to jump through on the way to my goal. A very few friends know that I have been having a string of stressful days that can only be cured with time. So, I resigned myself to spending this beautiful spring day inside the law school listening to an attorney who is an officer in the Bar Association explain to us the practical ins and outs of professionalism in practice.
Well, I got off on the wrong foot.
The law school parking lot is an example of what happens when someone says, “hey, we need more parking spaces. We can’t afford to build anymore, so let’s paint some.” Presto, a parking lot built for 40 cars suddenly holds 60, as long as no one does anything reckless like open their car door.
I drove up into the parking lot and into a space that had about six inches of room on either side of the Exploder. I have explained already what a lovely, warm, peaceful feeling you get from having a shitty car in situations like this. I parked next to a very dirty silver Honda. I opened my door just enough to get myself out of the car and it slightly tapped the passenger-side rear view mirror unit of the Honda. I’ve been parking in this lot for two years and experience told me that this was not a serious collision.
Suddenly, the passenger-side window of the Honda came down. There was someone in there. I fat older guy with bad teeth, wearing a suit and looking at some papers. Probably a practitioner here to lead one of the mini-courses being offered. I smiled at him and said, “Sorry.”
“Oh, now you see I’m in here and you’re going to apologize?”
I’m thinking, why would I apologize to any empty car?
“You really knocked my car a good one. I could feel it rocking.”
“Well, your car is fine, there is no damage.”
“Yeah, right. You say.”
“Well, get out here and show me the damage to your car, then.”
I can’t remember what he said, but I turned around and flipped my seat up to get my computer bag out of the back seat.
“Now, you just hit it again!”
OK, Jabba the Hut, you are messing with me on the wrong fucking day. I pushed my car door slowly up against his mirror and leaned down. I looked him in the eye.
“Why don’t you just kiss my ass?”
I grabbed my bag and stalked off, bumping my nice, soft ass up against his car. The Dean and Professor Higginson were standing on the sidewalk.
“I hope that fat asshole is not one of our instructors,” muttered as I walked by. They looked over at him just in time to see him waving his arms and yelling at me. I was on the front steps of the law school.
“Hey, buddy! You want a piece of me? You keep it up!” I was beyond mad. I was ready to kick this jerk’s ass all over Uptown, and I didn’t care if he turned out to be the world’s first Honda-driving federal judge.
I found out that my class was in the building across the street. As I walked over there, Professor Higginson caught up to me. He asked me what happened and I told him. He said that neither he nor the Dean knew who this guy was. He said that he had talked to the guy and the guy said I “hit” his car and refused to apologize. Professor Higginson had done the same thing I did - asked the guy to show him the damage. The guy said, “Oh, it’s nothing.”
OK. NOW it’s nothing. Now that you’re talking to a MAN, it’s nothing? Fuck you, you fucking fuck.
- Posted in : main, new orleans
- Author : dangerblond
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