Look, I can admit it. I like picking fights. I like needling you. I am a paper cut strategically placed on the fold of your finger so that every time you make a fist, you split me wide open, making it impossible for me to ever heal. I know this. I am comfortable with it. I’m good at it. Some would say it’s what I do best. So I am used to people screaming at me. Hell, sometimes I will purposely alienate large groups of people (Teachers, preachy born-agains) due to sheer boredom. Many times making an argument that I don’t even really believe, but I know will get some fireworks going. Most of the time when I am being dressed-down, it is not only deserved, but by design.
Other times, however, I have fuckin whack-jobs seeking me out for absolutely no reason. Like today:
So there I am, on the upper west side of Manhattan, sitting in my car, which is legally parked outside of a 7-11. I have my diet soda and my granola bar, which is the only real cheating I have been doing on this diet. I have about 15 minutes between jobs at work, so I can sit and relax for a few minutes and listen to the parade of imbeciles that call in to sports talk radio shows. I had just gotten back into the car and had enough time to start the car, buckle my seat belt, and unwrap the damn granola bar, when I get a tap on my driver’s side window. As I look over, I see a petite white lady, probably mid 40′s, with a small yappy dog on a leash.
“Hmm” I think to myself ” maybe she needs directions.”
Crazy Twat: (In the most condescending down-her-nose tone possible) “Turn off your car.”
Crazy Twat: “I’m gonna need you to turn off that car.”
Me: (Even though still confused, getting the idea that this is about to get ugly real fast) “Oh, I’m sorry. Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck are you talking about?”
Crazy Twat: “You are destroying the environment by idling in that car, so TURN IT OFF!”
Me: “Look Al Gore, I’m just sitting here trying to drink my fucking Big Gulp. So please, for the love of God, beat it.”
Crazy Twat: (Incensed, probably because this is a typical upper west side bitch who NEVER hears the word no) Oh, so you are one of those obnoxious people who don’t doesn’t give a shit about the environment?”
Me: “Lady, I am not ONE of those obnoxious people, I am the MOST obnoxious person you have ever met. In fact, me sitting here with this car running is the LEAST obnoxious thing I’ll do all day. And now that you had to interfere with my quiet time, I am not only going to keep the engine running, but now I am gonna run the AC full blast on a 55 degree day. If I had a full can of Aqua Net right now, I’d be shooting it randomly in the air like it was a six-shooter at a hoe down.”
Crazy Twat: “You know you are the reason it’s 90 degrees in April!”
Me: “Well, then you are welcome.”
And with that, I rolled up my window. She continued screaming for a few seconds, then took her dog into the groomer I was sitting in front of. Situation over, right?
Uhhh no. Remember, we are clearly dealing with a chemical imbalance here.
Thirty seconds later, I see her come out of the groomer and go running, I mean sprinting, up the street, only to come walking back with what looks like a cop, only shorter and fatter. Wait, did she just go grab a cop? Uhhh no. A crossing guard. Yup. A fucking crossing guard.
crossing Guard: (Clearly confused) “Ummm, that lady asked me to ask you to turn your car off.”
Me: “Really? Ummm, why you?”
Crossing guard: “Well, I think she thinks I’m a cop, but I don’t know. She seems kind of strange, so can I just go tell her you shut the car off? I want her to leave me alone.”
Me: “Absolutely. You tell her anything you want.” (Why drag this poor old black lady into this?)
Now, I am not a big environmental guy, but I can appreciate that idling is probably emitting some nasty shit into the air. However, I was sitting there for about thirty seconds before twat face showed up, and because of her nonsense, I sat there idling for about five minutes. So way to go, forest ranger, you probably just ensured the death of a baby seal or something somewhere.
And one final thought: I’m not a tough guy, or a serial killer (Yet). But this lady didn’t know that. So how bout the balls on this chick to go out of her way to infuriate a perfect stranger? And for something that really is (forgive me Greenpeace) a tiny issue.
This is not a rare occurrence for me. The circumstances are always different, but random people seem to love fucking with me. I am the biggest crazy magnet in the world. Although, it is how I met my wife, so…