Cue: Music in a minor key.
Scene 1: I’m outside in the driveway. I’m cleaning the car windows because they need it badly. A group of high school kids is walking up the street. One of them stops in my next-door neighbor‘s yard and starts to light up. It wasn’t a cigarette, either.
I yell, “Don’t be lighting up!” The kid looks up, embarrassed. He and his friends continue walking.
I say, “How old are you?” (I have no idea why I said this other than I’m probably as old as this kid’s grandmother.)
“Ha! I’m twenty-seven too.”
So what if called this kid out? He’s just going to walk on to the next block and light up there.
Scene 2: Parking lot at 1855 No. Fair Oaks Avenue (west side of the street).
I’m walking toward my parked car. I see a woman in a truck looking for a space. She’s figured out that there are none and hopes to take my space. Meanwhile, a car pulls in behind her, also wanting to park.
The (insert ethnicity here) woman in the truck is blocking me from getting out. She sees the car behind her and has to move forward. But it is clear she really wants my space. She was there first.
The truck attempts to move to the side to let the car go past but there isn’t enough room. The car pulls up alongside the truck. There are many (insert ethnicity here, but not the one you picked for the truck driver) women in the car. They start yelling. The driver starts honking. It’s clear that the car is not going to let the truck have the space.
I feel bad for the woman in the truck. I’m backing out of my coveted parking space slowly, flummoxed by all the yelling and honking. I (insert white woman here, and if you picked white for the truck driver or car driver, go back and pick again) get yelled at. “Can’t you learn how to drive?”
I have no idea what to say to the yelling people. I want to tell them how rude and inappropriate they are. I want to smile at them and make nicey-nice. I’m sure that my smile will be interpreted as me baring my teeth.
I simply drove away.