Shameful chest-beating

I was a bit worried about posting this, because I really do want to move beyond bullshit tribal monkey mind, but what the hey:

So I’m in the supermarket parking lot, right, with Annette in the front seat and a delightfully full load of shopping in the back. I’m reversing out of a car park on a corner with exit doors on it, and I’m just about reversed out far enough that I can go forwards and turn at the same time to get onto the main way out. When this guy in a BMW zooms up and stops. In the exact and only space I can turn into to get out. I look at him. He looks at me. I wait for him to back up. He looks at me. I make the little two handed fingers-down “Back up plz” wave. He looks at me for a beat, then makes the same wave back.

Bear in mind that (a) he is backing up in a straight line, (b) there’s nothing behind him, and (c) he drove into this position to cause the issue. I, on the other hand, have to back up around a corner, into a stream of people exiting the doors, and I was there first.

I am, of course, enraged. Ladies, you don’t understand this, and that’s okay. It’s a guy thing and it’s hard-fucking-coded into our genes and that’s that. I am enraged, and this man is a shitpot, and I’ll back up when and only when Satan ice-skates to work.

I look at him. He looks at me. We break eye contact at the same time. I look very visibly at my watch, and then lean back slightly in my chair. He now knows that I Have All Day, Dude.

He shrugs. He FUCKING SHRUGS. He adjusts his sun visor slightly. In an underground car park, he adjusts his sun visor IN FRONT OF ME. I mouth the words “Of course you know, this means war.” at him.

I maintain eye contact with him and lower my sun visor, until it moves down enough to break our eye contact. I now can’t see what he’s doing.

“Is he moving?” I ask Annette.

“Nope”, she says. “He’s just sitting there.”

This will not stand. I have to out-think him. What would James Kirk do? Sleep with some alien priestess. No, not an option. I’m on the right track, though … I need to change the conditions of the test

And then.. it comes to me. I know the rules to this. So does he. It’s somehow okay if he looks like a spaz doing this shit because I also look like a spaz. If this devolves into a yelling match, it’s okay, because we’re both acting like idiots. So what needs to happen is that one of us has to not look like an idiot for sitting here and not moving.

“I”, I say to Annette “have a fucking awesome idea. Watch.”

I turn on the emergency blinkers, open the door, and get out. I make eye contact with the guy and walk around the front of the car. He’s slightly upset looking – he sees how big I am, and I’m getting out of the car – am I going to get physical? He’s worried!

I, however, am ice cool.

I pause in front of the car. It’s time … I make my move.

I spin on one foot, and pop the bonnet of the car, putting it smoothly up on the stand. I keep eye contact with Mr BMW and I see it actually dawn in his eyes what I am about to do.

I look down at the engine, I look around at passers-by, I look back at the engine. And I scratch my head. And then I stroke my beard. To the very best of my ability, every atom of my being and every nuance of the way I’m acting screams out “My, WHATEVER is wrong with my CAR that prevents it from MOVING?”

I raise an eyebrow at Mr BMW. What’ll you do now, dude? If you stay there, you look like a retard waiting for a busted car when you don’t have to. If you get out and start yelling, I stay calm and you look like a fuckwit. It’s checkmate in one, my worthy foe. There’s only one option. Take it. Take it like a man.

He’s yelling. He’s YELLING AT NO-ONE IN HIS CAR. And he puts it in reverse and BACKS THE FUCK UP. And he SQUEALS HIS WHEELS as he shifts into gear and drives off.

I instantly close the bonnet, get in, and drive away. Forwards. The theme music from Rocky is playing. Cherry blossoms are falling around my car. Women want me, and men want to be me.

Now, understand that this, I admit, is purest alpha-male bullshit. It’s lame. It sucks. And yet, just thinking about it as I write this gives me a wonderful warm feeling deep inside.

19 thoughts on “Shameful chest-beating

  1. oh man, I got enraged just READING that shit. The thing that makes me a woman and not a MAN is that I would never have thought of the ol ‘my car is broke down’ stunt and would probably just have reversed out, given him the fingers and called him a fuck-knuckle on the way out.
    I need to up my testosterone.

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  2. Masterful. The only time I’ve been in a similar situation, I backed down. In my defence, the other guy wasn’t so much “being a dick and trying to make me blink first” as “making ‘come here and say that, motherfucker’ motions” and I decided that discretion was the better part of not getting my head kicked in.

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  3. AWESOME.

    I wish I were level-headed enough to pull something like this. On the other hand a friend of mine had her window and back windscreen smashed in the other day because she flipped off a guy who’d been tailgating her like crazy. So I am being a polite driver at the moment…

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  4. Hah!

    I’m impressed that you’re level headed enough in that sort of situation to think of doing that. I’d probably do the same as Mary. Of course it helps that you’re a big guy and not a wee puny girl. :p

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  5. I bet you took Annette (alien princess in soft focus with pastel skin and unreasonably high hair) home and left your boots under the bed – Beautiful.

    You are Carpark Kirk!

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