That last post sucked. Oh well. Rather than continue it, I'll simply relate the anecdote I was building towards.
One night, after getting home from a weekend of hanging out with some friends, I noticed a black BMW parked in front of my house, engine idling and headlights on. A light dusting of snow was on my driveway, so I did some shovelling and, without being too obtrusive, I gave several sidelong glances toward the BMW in an attempt to figure out who was parked in front of my house and why they were there. It was dark, so I couldn't resolve the details, but a rhythmic motion was definitely present in the front seat and I quickly arrived at a theory as to the BMW's occupants' purpose. After ten minutes of shovelling, and while loudly chipping away at some ice on my driveway, the BMW kicked into drive and sped into the night. I figured that was it; a couple of strangers in a BMW, on what had seemed to be an abandoned street, had given themselves to a moment of passion but had come to the sudden realization that they were no longer alone.
A couple of nights later, I arrived home from work around the same time (8-ish) and once again spotted the BMW parked out front of my house, engine idling, headlights on. Whatever. People making out, I'm tired, I'm gonna go watch season two of The Office.
Over the next week, the car reappeared intermittently and gradually I found myself getting more and more annoyed. Who are these people? How dare they park in my territory! I must be rid of them! But how?!
Various Ideas:
1) The city has a new by-law against idling. Yes, I'll call the cops and tell them about the idlers in front of my house! Bah! That's something an 80 year old man would do and it's a waste of tax payers money.
2) Perhaps I can dump a large pile of snow in their parking spot? Ingenious! Except it'll get cleared away tomorrow.
3) I'll get a laser pointer and be a nuisance. Paydirt! I'll shine it on them and they'll feel self-conscious. But what if one of them gets a damaged retina? I'd never forgive myself.
I mentioned my problem to a few of my co-workers, and they offered the following suggestions:
1) Throw snow on the car's windshield;
2) Dump a bucket of chum on the car.
Number two sounded good, but I don't have the necessary discipline to go out and buy fish remnants, let alone ferment them.
Several days went by and the car failed to reappear. Two, three, then four days had elapsed and I started to feel comfortable that the problem was resolved. But on the fifth day, as I rounded the bend and approached my house on foot, I noticed my old friend, the BMW, parked in front of my house again. Snow was on the ground and I angrily decided to clear it. The scraping of my shovel on pavement and the BMW's idling engine were the only sounds in the night. Frequently, I stopped in the middle of my shovelling to issue a withering gaze at the car, willing it to move, but my Jedi mindtricks proved useless. "How terribly awkward this situation is," I thought to myself.
Then it hit me. What do I do better than anything else? I transform normal situations into awkward ones. So what would happen if I took an awkward situation and applied my "gift" to it? Right then and there I resolved to find out. Shovel in hand, I walked towards the BMW with a sense of purpose. As I got closer, I noticed its occupants were in the backseat, clearly engrossed in one other. Patiently and awkwardly, I stood next to the rear passenger window and directed my gaze down the street. 30 seconds elapsed and out of my peripheral vision I noticed that the movement in the car had ceased. For whatever reason, I had become more interesting to them than they were to each other. Turning towards them, I smiled and waved. With a look of confusion, the young man waved back; his girlfriend did not. For ten full seconds we stared at each other through the car window. Finally, the young man lowered the window and I spoke first:
"I've, uh, noticed that you've been parked here several nights."
"Yeah. Sorry. It won't happen again. Is that okay for you?"
"Yes. Thank you."
I walked back inside, my shovelling completed.
8 comments:
You are a horrible grumpy old fuck.
No way George, I'm with you on this one; a) idling is bad for the environment, ask Gore and b) seriously, you can afford a BMW - spring for the hotel room!
I have a sneaking suspicion that these are young adults still living with their parents and that the young man got his BMW because his parents are wealthy.
I've sent glossy 8x10s, of them making out, to their respective houses. Hilarity ensues.
Somebody's bitter.
I guess - it's been a long time since I've had to make-out in a car though, so maybe I'm old and grumpy. Still, I think they could do better than a residential street - and in the same spot no less! They lack imagination...so sad in today's horned up youth!
Yep. She's bitter too.
Ryan: I'm guessing that you're one of those hopeless romantics that smiles and claps whenever a couple locks their faces together in public, yes?
Well, it's time to cut back on all those rom-coms you've been watching; life doesn't work that way. Also, no more Gilmore Girls!!
Please, you're the one who loves Notting Hill. Don't talk shit about the Gilmore Girls, I'm going to marry Lorelai, mark my words. You actually could fit in on that show. The grumpy awkward fuck, who comes out and bitches at Rory whenever she walks by with a boy. "Oh that's just Awkward George!".
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