Fear and Loathing at the Grocery Store

Today, let's talk pet peeves.

Scenario #1: You're in your car, roaming the lanes in the parking lot at the grocery store, trying to find an empty spot to pull into. Invariably, shoppers with carts full of groceries also wander into the same lane, heading back to their cars.

The Angry White Loner is all for car/pedestrian sharing of these parking lot lanes. The problem is that, more often than not, these shoppers tend to walk right in the middle of the lane rather than moving over to one side or the other so that you and your car can pass them, taking their own sweet time doing so and either (1) are lost in their own little worlds, talking on their cell phones or corralling their bratty children or whatever it may be, or (2) they know very well that they're blocking your path, and they are openly taunting you as you follow, with mere inches separating your front bumper and their calves.

*Sigh*

This is one of those rare times when the AWL feels compelled to not break, but sort of bend, the traditional Christian/Judeo ethic of "Thou shalt not kill." He feels like he is just one "accidental" pedal press on the accelerator, instead of the brake, from gunning it and pulling an Amanda Bynes on one of these pedestrians. Odds are that the oblivious pedestrian would hardly feel it and would, after being run over, continue talking on his or her cell phone as if nothing had happened.

Scenario #2: You're finally inside the grocery store, waiting in a long line to pay for your purchases and then make your way back into the parking lot to take your own turn slowly walking in front of someone else's car. Because turnabout is fair play.

Suddenly, a new cashier appears at the previously closed register in the next lane and announces that it is now "open." And, like clockwork, most of the people behind you, without saying a word or apologizing for butting ahead, scramble over to this now-open lane and check out ahead of you in a "me-first" gesture of utter obliviousness.

*Double-sigh*

Thankfully, common courtesy is not lost on most people. The people in these two scenarios are the exceptions and not the rule.

At least, once I finish cleaning up the parking lot in my car, they will be in the minority.

The One-Fingered Salute

People's behavior very rarely ceases to amaze me—especially when they are behind the steering wheels of their cars.

Within the past few days, I had two very different encounters with other drivers who were driving right behind me. The first one involved three rather grizzly looking men who were all sitting in the front of a pick-up truck in the lane behind me. From my rearview mirror, I could see that all three of them were giving me the one-fingered salute, aka flipping me off.

The thing is, I don't know why they were doing this. Generally speaking, when someone gives you the one-fingered salute, you know you've messed up. I didn't cut in front of them in traffic or anything—I was very sure of that, as I had just made a left turn and had turned into the proper lane and everything.


To try to diffuse their anger or whatever it was that prompted this gesture, I stopped at the traffic light just ahead, turned around, and showed them the Vulcan hand gesture. You know, from "Star Trek."

This, is at it turns out, did not help. At all. The truck driver saw it and immediately flipped me off again.

Okaaaaay then . . .

The second incident occurred earlier this evening, when I could see from my rearview mirror that a man (driving) and a woman (passenger seat) behind me noticed my license plate (LDSJEDI) and began to laugh. The woman took out her cell phone, as people are wont to do when they see my plates, and took a photo, while the man gave me a confident "thumbs up" gesture, which I was happy to return back to him.

To tell you the truth, it all kind of made my day—just at the experience with the three men in the truck kind of ruined my day. I am the kind of person who tends to take these things personally.

Speaking of personal preferences, I definitely prefer it when people make my day. And not in the way that Clint Eastwood meant.

I guess what it boils down to is we all have the choice whether to be the kind of person—and driver—who makes someone else's day or the one who ruins it. I hope to be the kind of person who is the former and not the latter.