[Not the situation Friday night.]
We had a strange experience Friday night. I know. Strange in DC. That never happens. *rolls eyes*
A little stage setting:
We have company for the weekend and the four of us meet up with another two friends for dinner and a comedy show Friday night. The four of us have Metro'd in and walked the two blocks to the restaurant. It is maybe 20 degrees out, but luckily none of us notices how cold the temperature is because we're too busy freaking out over the wind chill which makes it feel like -75 degrees.
We have a great meal (at Sonoma) and the six of us debate about how to get to the show. It is eight blocks away. We can walk the eight blocks in the howling wind. We can cab. We can walk the two blocks in the howling wind, get on the Metro, go one stop, get off the Metro and walk another two blocks in the howling wind. Or we can cram into the car of our friends, who drove to the restaurant.
Decision made. We will squeeze into Friend's car. We walk the block and a half to Friend's car and here's where it gets weird.
Friend has done a miraculous parallel parking job in a very tight space, despite the fact that his car is a compact but the space is more Smart Car sized. I notice that the car behind his has about three feet of room behind it.
There is a couple, standing on the sidewalk looking at Friend's car. Let's give them a random name so you can keep the players straight. How about: Mr. & Mrs. Ass.
Mr. Ass is just staring at Friend's car. Mrs. Ass is holding a newspaper, pretending to read it, in the howling wind. Yeah, not too strange. She continues this behavior through 99% of the encounter. Did I mention that it feels like -75 out?
The conversation goes something like this...
Mr. Ass: That's your car.
Friend: Yes. Is that your car? *pointing to the car behind his*
Mr. Ass: Yes, the one you hit.
At this point, we all stop and look at the two car's mingle point. Where it is true that Friend has his back bumper kissing the license plate of Mr. Ass' car, both cars appear to be perfectly intact. Not a ding, not a dimple, not a scratch.
Several of us: It doesn't look like it./Where?/No, I don't think so.
Mr. Ass, in a quiet but angry voice: He hit my car.
Me: They're very close but, actually, I can see a sliver of light between his bumper and your plate.
Mr. Ass: He's probably going to hit it again.
One of us: Are you leaving? Looks like you have a lot of room to back up.
Friend gets into his car to start to remove it from the very tight space.
Friend continues to maneuver a few inches up and back and gently touches Mr. Ass' bumper again.
Mr. Ass: He hit my car again!
Me, indicating Mr. Ass' car: Woudn't it be easier if this car was just backed up a few feet?
Me: It just seems logical...
Friend gets the car out of the space in under a minute and we all hop in and take off. At this point, Mrs. Ass lowers the paper and follows us a few steps into the street. I wonder briefly if she is checking for Friend's license plate number. Not sure what she'd do with it as there was no damage to either vehicle. Maybe she was hoping we'd take her with us.
Friend was maneuvering at a very slow speed. He never damaged his or Mr. Ass' car. Friend did tap Mr. Ass' car at maybe 3 miles per hour. Isn't that exactly what bumpers are made for? Isn't that why they call them bumpers?!
Could this man have been any more difficult? And it wasn't like Mr. Ass was driving a mint condition Rolls Royce. It was a very average looking car. So, again, I gotta go with: WTF?
02 February 2009
[Not the situation Friday night.]