TheBanyanTree: Monday Adventure, or: Don't Mess With The Marine

[NancyIee at aol.com]

My friend is a woman of a certain age, her hair flecked with grey, her eyes 
bright with wisdom and kindness, her step slowed by a variety of health 
problems. Children adore her, and adults are drawn to her sparkle and compassion. She 
makes friends in seconds, and is one of those people others remember all 
their lives. Everywhere she goes, people greet her like a favorite aunt, with hugs 
and joy and happy reunion.

Well, my friend was going shopping this Monday, then to the doctor. Quick 
stops at Walmart and the Dollar Store before her appointment. She carried her 
purchases to her van and, was getting ready to leave when she witnessed another 
driver maneuvering through the parking lot. The man's red van cut a corner, and 
crunched the taillight off a parked, brand new, PT Cruiser. In amazement, my 
friend watched as the van continued on its erratic path, continuing to 
completely go around the Cruiser, scraping the opposite side as well.

The man stopped, got out, walked slowly around his van to examine the damage. 
There was little. My friend stood, open-mouthed, as the man shrugged, got 
back into his vehicle, and prepared to leave the scene.

My friend, in her van by that time, and about to head to her appointment, 
drove forward and blocked the man's escape,wedging him between her van and a 
delivery truck.. Naturally, he became upset to find his way blocked.

What are you doing?" he shouted from his vehicle. "You're in my way."

"You were going to leave, Sir," my friend called back.  "You hit that car."

"Well, there isn't any damage."

:"Not to your van, maybe, but look at that other car, Sir. You really messed 
it up. See? There's glass and plastic all over the parking lot. If someone had 
messed up my car like that, I'd want to know who did it. Running away doesn't 
seem very Christian or homorable."

"Well, you're just a busy-body-bitch and this is none of your affair."

"It is, now." My friend stubbornly replied.

By then, the man was out of his vehicle. My friend closed her window and 
locked the doors. The man shouted at her, pounding her van with his fists. My 
friend called the police on her cell phone, holding the phone to the window so 
that the dispatcher could hear the irate and verbally abusive man as he continued 
his tirade.

Two patrol cars arrived shortly.

"I was going to go into Walmart to report the accident and find the people 
who own the other car," the man told the police. "But, this busy-body blocked me 
in."  

Meanwhile, my friend, seeing that the way was blocked to other traffic as 
well, got out of her vehicle and was directing traffic. My friend is a bit over 
five feet tall, and looks like an angelic, grandmotherly latino. A lot of 
people assume she's a pushover, at first glance.

"He wasn't going into Walmart," my friend said to the police. "The other car 
is way over there. He was leaving."

The man managed to put both feet firmly into his mouth  as his temper got the 
best of him. The police took over, and, when my friend said she was late for 
her doctor appointment, said she could leave.

My friend got into her van with one parting shot at the man, as he stood in 
deep do-do.  "I was in the Marines ten years," she said to him. "I didn't take 
any crap then, I don't take any now."

And, she drove away.



NancyLee