I went for cheese
Let me preface this by stating that I tend to ramble. With that said, continue at your own risk.
Around 5 p.m. at work today, I was in the office copying some kids menus when Mike, a line cook, busted in and started going on about how we were out of 'O.G. cheese' Ed, my manager, said that we would have to send someone to the 161 store to get some. I, of course, volunteered. A paid road trip -- when I'm on overtime? HELL YES! So, I put on my red coat and I was on my way. For cheese.
The whole thing went off without a hitch. I was exiting on Polaris Parkway, enjoying my cigarette, jammin' with the song on the radio, and decided to change lanes. I signaled, I switched.
The car behind me beeped. For no reason, I should add. I, in turn, beeped back. The car behind me tooted again, only this time much longer. I reciprocated. Now, this exchange continued back and forth until the light turned green. When it turned, I could have gone. But, I sat there, for just a minute. Because I could. Then I was off, zipping down the parkway in my speedy little car. I figured I had made my point. Apparently, I had not.
The car, now known to be full of four fierce black women, pursued me. They pulled up next to me at another light, and I, innocently waved hello. With my middle finger.
They got behind me again, and felt the need to turn on their brights. So, I, suddenly felt the urge to drive 20 miles per hour. That was fun for a while, but then I remembered that I had to get back to work and I had no time to dawdle with such silliness, so I easily passed them and continued on my way. They followed me, clunking along, into the complex of where I work. Into the parking lot of where I work.
Fuck.
Of course I couldn't stop. So, I circled the lot. Thinking they would not be ridiculous enough to follow me around and around and around the parking lot of the Olive Garden. Well, they were. After about the 15th round, I called work. There was no answer. When I came around the corner, say lap 17ish, they had turned their car sideways, blocking my path. They were all out of the vehicle. I did what any white blooded girl would do in my situation. I shifted into reverse. Ha. Fooled them.
Not quite. I dialed the Olive Garden again. Still no answer. This time, I didn't hang up. They pulled their sideways-we're-coming-to beat-your-ass move again. The driver of the car was screaming "APOLOGIZE, BITCH!" or something. I looked at her very sweetly and said "no" and kept driving. When I circled around again, cheese still in tact, resting on my passenger seat, they were gone.
Someone finally answered at work. And then it was a whole bunch of discombobulated sentences on my part. Diarrhea of the mouth, as I like to call it. A manager was put on the phone pretty expediently. Keith, lord love him, really offered no help. "Park by the side door, I'll let you in."
"Keith, I'm not leaving my car out here! They are going to slash my tires or some shit!"
"Well, are they still out there?
"...no..."
"Then why don't you just-"
"Just forget it. I'll be right in."
At that moment, the side door opens. Enter: Ed. 98 pound SuperManager, coming to slay my dragons. He got the cheese out of my car for me, because I was too shaky to so anything but pace. Mike also came out the side door. He, apparently, was Ed's back up. They decided to take this opportunity to smoke. We decided that it would be a good idea if I move my car to the To-GO parking, because we can see it from the host stand, thus, protecting my car in the best possible capacity.
I get in my car. Mike and Ed watching over me protectively. I was still shaking. I look over my left shoulder. Nothing. I'm pretty concerned because I parked unusually close to another car on the left side of me and I don't want to hit it. I look over my left shoulder again. Look at my front bumper, still backing, still clear, still not hitting the car next to me.
Crash!
I back right into the car of a sixteen year old girl!
I stall in my haste to get out of the car.
"Oh GOD! OHGODIMSOSORRY! Oh GOD! ... Are you okay?"
The girl rolls down her window.
"I didn't even leave a mark. Your car is fine, really. I swear! Are you okay? I'm so so so so so sorry. I..."
She gets out. She points to the small smudge I didn't notice. It was nothing, really, not even a dent. Her door made a weird noise when she shut it to take a better look.
"Your door always sounds like that when you shut it, right?" I pray, I pray, I pray.
"No."
"Well, I guess we should exchange insurance information..."
"I guess we should!" Well, okay Miss Attitude. Haven't you ever been stalked by four abnormally large women and been so upset you accidentally ran into an innocent bystander's practical economy car?
I don't think she has. Suddenly, Ed and Mike are at my side, saving the day, clear thinking and wonderful. Ed told her she should move her car over to the side because it's blocking traffic. After she moves her car, I tell her we should go inside to exchange information because it's warm inside. I'm a blathering idiot. I'm explaining why I was too involved to notice her car. Why I just smashed into her. She had no sympathy for me. "I wanted to beep to let you know I was behind you, but I could not find my horn it time." She says.
After the deed is done, which, by the way, she spends the whole interaction on the phone with her daddy because this is her first accident, she puts her name on the wait. She is with a party of seventeen people.
Seventeen people and they are going to hunt me down and kill me. It turned out that it was her brothers.
I bet her dad owns a gun. I bet he is big and mean and protective. I bet he wears flannel. And they are all coming for me.
I hate me life...
Okay. So, what I have learned is:
*look over your left shoulder AND your right shoulder when backing out of a parking spot
*don't get into a beeping war with a car you don't know
*don't flip off a car of aggravated black women
*cheese is evil. Nothing good can come from cheese
Maybe giving up my road rage would be a good new years resolution. Hmmm...
Around 5 p.m. at work today, I was in the office copying some kids menus when Mike, a line cook, busted in and started going on about how we were out of 'O.G. cheese' Ed, my manager, said that we would have to send someone to the 161 store to get some. I, of course, volunteered. A paid road trip -- when I'm on overtime? HELL YES! So, I put on my red coat and I was on my way. For cheese.
The whole thing went off without a hitch. I was exiting on Polaris Parkway, enjoying my cigarette, jammin' with the song on the radio, and decided to change lanes. I signaled, I switched.
The car behind me beeped. For no reason, I should add. I, in turn, beeped back. The car behind me tooted again, only this time much longer. I reciprocated. Now, this exchange continued back and forth until the light turned green. When it turned, I could have gone. But, I sat there, for just a minute. Because I could. Then I was off, zipping down the parkway in my speedy little car. I figured I had made my point. Apparently, I had not.
The car, now known to be full of four fierce black women, pursued me. They pulled up next to me at another light, and I, innocently waved hello. With my middle finger.
They got behind me again, and felt the need to turn on their brights. So, I, suddenly felt the urge to drive 20 miles per hour. That was fun for a while, but then I remembered that I had to get back to work and I had no time to dawdle with such silliness, so I easily passed them and continued on my way. They followed me, clunking along, into the complex of where I work. Into the parking lot of where I work.
Fuck.
Of course I couldn't stop. So, I circled the lot. Thinking they would not be ridiculous enough to follow me around and around and around the parking lot of the Olive Garden. Well, they were. After about the 15th round, I called work. There was no answer. When I came around the corner, say lap 17ish, they had turned their car sideways, blocking my path. They were all out of the vehicle. I did what any white blooded girl would do in my situation. I shifted into reverse. Ha. Fooled them.
Not quite. I dialed the Olive Garden again. Still no answer. This time, I didn't hang up. They pulled their sideways-we're-coming-to beat-your-ass move again. The driver of the car was screaming "APOLOGIZE, BITCH!" or something. I looked at her very sweetly and said "no" and kept driving. When I circled around again, cheese still in tact, resting on my passenger seat, they were gone.
Someone finally answered at work. And then it was a whole bunch of discombobulated sentences on my part. Diarrhea of the mouth, as I like to call it. A manager was put on the phone pretty expediently. Keith, lord love him, really offered no help. "Park by the side door, I'll let you in."
"Keith, I'm not leaving my car out here! They are going to slash my tires or some shit!"
"Well, are they still out there?
"...no..."
"Then why don't you just-"
"Just forget it. I'll be right in."
At that moment, the side door opens. Enter: Ed. 98 pound SuperManager, coming to slay my dragons. He got the cheese out of my car for me, because I was too shaky to so anything but pace. Mike also came out the side door. He, apparently, was Ed's back up. They decided to take this opportunity to smoke. We decided that it would be a good idea if I move my car to the To-GO parking, because we can see it from the host stand, thus, protecting my car in the best possible capacity.
I get in my car. Mike and Ed watching over me protectively. I was still shaking. I look over my left shoulder. Nothing. I'm pretty concerned because I parked unusually close to another car on the left side of me and I don't want to hit it. I look over my left shoulder again. Look at my front bumper, still backing, still clear, still not hitting the car next to me.
Crash!
I back right into the car of a sixteen year old girl!
I stall in my haste to get out of the car.
"Oh GOD! OHGODIMSOSORRY! Oh GOD! ... Are you okay?"
The girl rolls down her window.
"I didn't even leave a mark. Your car is fine, really. I swear! Are you okay? I'm so so so so so sorry. I..."
She gets out. She points to the small smudge I didn't notice. It was nothing, really, not even a dent. Her door made a weird noise when she shut it to take a better look.
"Your door always sounds like that when you shut it, right?" I pray, I pray, I pray.
"No."
"Well, I guess we should exchange insurance information..."
"I guess we should!" Well, okay Miss Attitude. Haven't you ever been stalked by four abnormally large women and been so upset you accidentally ran into an innocent bystander's practical economy car?
I don't think she has. Suddenly, Ed and Mike are at my side, saving the day, clear thinking and wonderful. Ed told her she should move her car over to the side because it's blocking traffic. After she moves her car, I tell her we should go inside to exchange information because it's warm inside. I'm a blathering idiot. I'm explaining why I was too involved to notice her car. Why I just smashed into her. She had no sympathy for me. "I wanted to beep to let you know I was behind you, but I could not find my horn it time." She says.
After the deed is done, which, by the way, she spends the whole interaction on the phone with her daddy because this is her first accident, she puts her name on the wait. She is with a party of seventeen people.
Seventeen people and they are going to hunt me down and kill me. It turned out that it was her brothers.
I bet her dad owns a gun. I bet he is big and mean and protective. I bet he wears flannel. And they are all coming for me.
I hate me life...
Okay. So, what I have learned is:
*look over your left shoulder AND your right shoulder when backing out of a parking spot
*don't get into a beeping war with a car you don't know
*don't flip off a car of aggravated black women
*cheese is evil. Nothing good can come from cheese
Maybe giving up my road rage would be a good new years resolution. Hmmm...