I know it's been almost a week since I told you about my weirdo encounters. I've been holding out on you!
Several days ago, I made my usual run to town for errands and a 44 oz Diet Coke. As with most days lately, my timing was not optimal. I passed some establishments because I'd planned out my route already, only to find that the good parking places were taken when I returned, or that the place was really busy now.
After several such missteps, I arrived at the gas station chicken store. Of course my favorite parking spot was taken. So I parked next to the moat that separates the lot from Hick's pharmacy, Ceilingreds. As I climbed out of T-Hoe, I saw that over by the free air hose, a car had pulled into the handicap space next to my old second-favorite parking spot.
I DID notice that the car had no handicap plates and no handicap placard hanging from the mirror. But since the gas station chicken store attracts the worst parkers in the greater Backroads area, that fact did not really surprise me.
A man got out of the driver's seat. He looked like that teenage kid on The Family Guy, only with black hair, and kind of gone-to-seed, with a 10 o'clock shadow. He was wearing dirty jeans with the bottom rolled up in 4-inch cuffs, and a black t-shirt with a rip in the back. How do you get a rip in the back of a t-shirt? Unless maybe you're trying to crawl under a barbed wire fence in the middle of the night after (alleged) criminal activity? Just sayin'...
Anyhoo...he was at the corner of the building, and I was walking across the lot. I didn't notice him limping or anything. He got to the door ahead of me. Usually, when you sense someone behind you, you push the door out as you enter. Give it a little extra oomph so it swings wide, or even hold your hand on the inside bar for a minute, as a courtesy to the person behind you.
NotFamily Guy pulled on the door handle and slipped through that crack like a ninja! I swear. It was like he was deliberately shutting me out, short of grabbing the inside handle and pulling the door closed behind him. What's up with that?
I reached for the door handle, a bit miffed, and saw inside the cranky tall clerk ready to come out, a cig already between her lips. Well. I did the right thing. I pulled open the door and stood back. "Go ahead, I've got it." Li'l Val's hero was not Gallant in Highlights magazine for nothing, you know. The clerk thanked me and came out the door, happy to be one second closer to her nicotine fix.
Seriously. Would it have hurt that guy to open the door like normal? Not even shove it open wide for my elephantine girth to plod through. Just a normal open and walk-in. No need to slither like a contestant in a sideways limbo contest. It's like he was afraid he might accidentally do me a favor.
What, exactly, is wrong with people these days?
Oh, yeah. And NotFamily Guy bought 14 one-dollar scratch-off tickets. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It just seems kind of random. As I left, I saw him sitting in his sedan in the handicap parking space, scratching his tickets.
Still not sure what his handicap was...