But yesterday took the old proverbial cake. This car wash incident raised my eyebrows and kept them raised like I had a bad face lift all afternoon. Allow me to explain: I was out and about, running errands and trying to cross about a zillion and two things off my to-do list. My poor car still has remnants of muddy tailgate lots on the tires, and so I pulled into my local 7-Eleven for what I hoped would be a quick car wash. I entered the queue line behind the building and sat there behind four other cars. And waited. And waited some more. After five full minutes and not a single bit of forward movement, I decided that my schedule did not allow for this nonsense. But a car behind me had me blocked in.
I rolled down my window and tried to get the driver's attention, to no avail. I (wrongly, as it turned out) assumed that the girl behind the wheel simply did not see me, and so I put my car in park, got out, and walked back to her car. In retrospect, the story is even more enjoyable when I remember that the fringe of my ankle boots was causing added spring in my step, but I digress. I tapped on her car window and when she rolled it down, asked in my most genteel, polite tone: "Could you please back up so that I can get out? I don't want to wait in this line, so I'm just going to go."
And this person harshly replied, "I could, but I won't. Since you were rude and cut in line in front of me to get to the car wash, I'm just going to sit here."
I started to explain that I was reasonably sure I did not cut in front of her, but thought better of it. Instead, I said, "I'm sorry. But if I leave, you can have my place in line." I noticed that mean car wash girl was now vehemently shaking her head no and giving me The Hand In Face maneuver. I tried reason: "So, you would rather sit and wait for me to go through the car wash than back up a foot and let me out? You would have my place in line once I leave?"
"I sure had. I'm not moving anywhere, just because you want me to." This is what the girl said, in the nastiest tone of voice I assume is typically reserved for negotiating with terrorists or telemarketers.
"Wow, what a kind gesture. Thank you so much. I hope your random act of kindness comes back to you at some point today," I said, in my most drippingly sarcastic, sugar sweet voice. My fringe boots and I turned and headed back for the car.
My story doesn't end there. But before I tell you how this near road rage incident came to a conclusion, I'd like to say a few things to that mean girl behind me in line at the car wash:
Bless your heart.
When I walked up to your car to ask you to back up, you were not only ignoring me out of spite, you were also plucking your eyebrows. In public. I'm not sure if anyone's ever told you, but that is a personal grooming habit that really doesn't need to happen in the bright light of public day. And when you snarked at me, you and those red, angry brows were quite a sight to see.
Bless your public grooming, overplucked eyebrow-loving heart.
I couldn't see your license plate, but I have a pretty good idea by the way you spoke that you were probably not raised in an environment where things like Southern hospitality or manners were stressed. Nor were things like patience, civility, or anger management.
Bless your ill-mannered, short-tempered heart.
Oh, the look on your blotchy, just-plucked face when I backed my car within millimeters of yours, turned that steering wheel for all it was worth, and executed the most magnificent 3-point turn of my entire driving career.
Bless your enraged, defeated, out-for-revenge heart.
Bless. Your. Heart.
I hope you at least got your Honda Accord clean. And maybe your rage under control.