While my aging and ailing Honda Civic is in the shop getting some impromptu but very necessary repairs I had to rent a car. At 30 minutes to closing I took what was left on the lot, which happened to be an adorable, red Fiat 500 Sport. With an aversion to calling things by a number instead of a name – that perhaps hails back to Star Trek Voyager’s character, Seven of Nine – I’ve taken to calling my Fiat 500, Jellybean. With a car this tiny, food shopping at Costco is out. However, from a parking perspective, Jellybean is perfect for New York City. But not everybody is a fan.
>While I was stopped at a light someone pulled up next to me, rolled down her window, and screeched, “Get that shit off the road! You’re holding up traffic!” At least I think it was a she. Her face was so contorted with rage I couldn’t swear to a positive gender or species identification. A futile attempt to smile and wave at the creature only provoked it further. She put her car into park – in a lane of traffic – and yelled, “I’m going to throw something at you!”
It was also not worth mentioning to the jabbering gargoyle that stopping to share her passionate opinion with me slowed down traffic more than Jellybean ever could. That information might have pushed her over the edge, and it is so not cool to get your ass kicked over a rental car. I was happy when the harpy made a left turn at the next corner and we motored off in different directions. Me to spend time with friends, her – I hope – to get therapy. She needs it.
This un-delicate flower was lucky that it was me she chose to have a mini meltdown with. Not in a “let me at her” kind of way, unless of course furious pouting from an opponent is her Kryptonite. What I mean is she was lucky she didn’t run into someone who ate fruit loops like her for breakfast. She was lucky she wasn’t in Florida and pulled that stunt on someone who opted to stand their ground by putting her six feet under it. It happens, you know; everyday. It leads the six o’clock news and it still sells newspapers – albeit fewer of them – everyday.
The luxury of time and distance has allowed me to feel sorry for this fellow human. Her fury was so out of proportion to the imagined provocation that I know she must dealing with issues much bigger than my little Jellybean. You never know what someone might be going through in their life, what burden they labor under, what medication they’ve forgotten to take. I’ll never know for sure, but I’d bet money that this poor person was running late to a court-ordered anger management class. And if she wasn’t, she will be … very soon.
