The Stranger Who Shamed Me: Vol II

The second installment is here! Thank you once again to all my contributors . . . I'm always happy to publish your humiliating experiences.

Road Rage

 

A few years ago I was driving along a bustling suburban street.  The lane I was in was merging into another lane.  Like the distracted driver I am, I didn't give the other driver the right of way and cut him off.  He probably had to hit his brakes to keep from hitting me.  I admit it.  It was my fault.  I should have been paying more attention and yielded to him.  I can admit it.

 

Of course, he started honking, waving, probably giving me the bird.  I don't remember that part.  The part I remember was pulling into a nearby parking lot, him following me in there, parking me into a parking spot, getting out of his car, coming to my window, and screaming at me.  I mean screaming.  The only thing that made me feel better was all the people around the parking lot who were staring at him with horror.  I like to think they were on my side.

 

-- Liz B.

Parking Patrol

A few winters ago when I was about six months pregnant, I decided to go to the gym after work. It was around 6 PM, already dark outside, and I was circling the lot looking for a parking spot. The car in front of me seemed to be doing the same thing, but I was pleasantly surprised when a spot opened up and he drove right passed it. He must be on his way out, I thought, and happily pulled into the spot. 

I was surprised to see the car had stopped in the middle of the lot, not far from where I'd parked, and I started to get nervous. I didn't know what was happening, so I got out of my car and started to walk to the gym. 

Upon seeing me, the man gets out of his car -- still running in the middle of the parking lot -- and approaches me. I thought I was going to throw up. He had this awful, patronizing smirk on his face, and he goes "You know, I always wanted to talk to somebody like you."

I looked at him: I'm sorry, what?

"Did you not see I was going to park there?"

"Oh, no, sorry. I thought when you drove past it, that meant you were not parking."

"I was going to back in."

"I'm sorry, would you like me to move my car?"

"No, I just always wanted to ask someone like you exactly what was going through your mind when you did something like that."

"Oh. Well I didn't think you wanted the spot."

CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS CONVERSATION? This actually happened to me. I was sweating and nauseous and debating whether or not to run. I wanted to point out that, in that very crowded parking lot, not ONE car was backed-in. Backing-in is not a common thing to expect! But I was too overwhelmed with terror and shame to defend myself.

And this is how the shaming ended:

[Horrible Man]: Can I ask you just one more thing?

[Me]: Okay.

[Horrible Man]: Are you from Minnesota?

[Me]: ...Yeah.

[Horrible Man]: Yep. Figures.

What is that??? What does that even mean??? I don't understand. Are Minnesotans notorious space-stealers or something? Explain yourself, man!

 

Needless to say, my workout was ruined; especially when I saw him come in later and it turns out he WORKS AT THE GYM. 

 

LITERALLY.

 

That was a lot of question marks and capital letters, but I hope you see that they were all very necessary. I still don't walk through that gym without nervously looking for him, and I never wear that winter jacket anymore in hopes that he won't recognize me. Ugh.

It's just one more reason not to work out.

 

--The Lazy Stand-Up