Put down your testosterone for just a minute, Mr. Tough Guy (TM)

Allow me to set the scene. It was Sunday morning. We had just survived Underwater Adventures with Kyle. The next item on the agenda was to meet Bekah, Paul, and Cora at the Minnesota Zoo. We returned to our van in the parking ramp, loaded the Kylinator into the van, turned on the a/c, and got out the maps.

One of the many things I love about Troy is that he lacks the overgrown sense of machismo that prevents ordinary men from consulting maps. No, Troy realizes that I am little to no use when it comes to finding our way around unfamiliar locations. Plus, getting lost wastes valuable time. And Troy is not a time-waster. So he is always prepared with maps, usually several of them.

As we sat in our van in the parking ramp studying the maps, figuring out the best route to the MN zoo, a car stopped behind us to wait for our spot. Remember, it's a Sunday morning. It's not Black Friday or Christmas or anything. The mall is not crowded. There are plenty of other parking spots available. Our spot is on ground level, but it's not like it's attended by English butlers offering wine and cheese. It's not like it's the local A-list celebrity hangout. It's not like they were giving away free laptops to the first two vehicles parked within its gold-plated white lines.

But this guy wanted our spot. Our ordinary, just-like-all-the-others spot was apparently the Holy Grail of parking spots. He honked. I turned to look at him, and he threw his arms upward to signal his complete disgust and frustration that we had not left the spot. He honked again. Of course, by this time, Troy had finished studying the maps. But hell if we were going to let Mr. Asstwat have our spot. Finally, he sped away, leaning on his horn as he passed us. Several other cars who had been stuck behind this asstwat followed him.

So we finally pulled out of our spot. As we were exiting the ramp, I spotted a guy walking with his wife and two tween-age sons. I hadn't seen the driver's face, but I could just tell by the way this mullet-haired, wife-beater clad redneck was walking that he was the guy. He just looked like a guy who would suffer from roid rage. As we passed him, I made eye contact. He gestured again to me, throwing up his arms as if to say, "What the fark?"

So Troy slowed down and rolled down the windows. "Is there a problem, sir?" he asked.

Tough Guy (TM) started screaming about how we had held up the entire population of Hicksville, USA, by not pulling out of our spot the second we were securely inside our vehicle. As if there's a time limit.

Troy explained, "I was looking at the @!#$ map!"

And Tough Guy (TM) shouted back, "Look at your @#!% map later!"

Now hold your testosterone right there, asstwat! First of all, when do you want us to look at the map? While we're driving? Seriously? Just so you can have your precious magical parking spot? Do I even need to point out that you obviously found another spot very quickly, since you're actually walking from your car to the mall already? And for another thing, those cars lined up behind you weren't pissed at us. They were pissed at you. You were the one holding up traffic. Because you were the asstwat who didn't want to drive 20 more yards to find an available spot.

Anyway, the the conversation escalated into several choice words before Tough Guy (TM) walked away, trailing his over-inflated ego behind him.

Seriously, what was the guy thinking? Is there some kind of unwritten law regulating the amount of time one may spend in the car before pulling out of the parking spot? By climbing into the car, are we required to turn the spot over to the first redneck asstwat who claims it?

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