I walked my daughter to school this morning. On the way back, my two-year-old wanted to walk and push her stroller. I grudgingly obliged, to avoid a screaming match. How ironic. Well she was pushing past the exit to the middle school, where parents who have dropped off their kids pull out. A car was up over the sidewalk, attempting to turn left, so I decided we'd be nice and walk behind it, so if traffic cleared they'd be able to go. While doing that, Edie fell flat on her face. She started screaming, so I scooped her up, put her in the stroller and moved out of the driveway.
The window on the white car rolled down, and the driver yells, "Did you scratch my car?"
I stare at her, "No, but she did fall on her face. Thanks for asking."
"Thanks for scratching people's cars!" She rolls her window up.
I yell at her closed window, "Get a life!" Then her window comes down again.
"I know you hit my car! Thanks for scratching it." Now mind you, nothing touched her car, and she never got out to check, and she could have left the parking lot twice by now. So she's just being a turd blossom.
"You know what, your car's fine. You have a GREAT day."
"Whatever. I heard you hit my car."
I looked at the woman turning right, sitting next to her. "Did I hit her car?" She pretends not to see me. Driver of the white car has her window back up again. "I didn't hit your car, get a fucking life!" I turn to walk away.
She rolls her window down again. "You have a great day, at the gym!" I think this is supposed to be an insult, as I'm in workout clothes, and FAT, so…something?
I just yell, "Get a fucking life!" One more time and walk home, crying.
The whole way home I was concocting revenge scenarios, the most satisfying of which was that I magically find out where she lives, take a rock, and scratch "NOW I scratched your car!" On the hood.