I spent the weekend attending various Christmas-related events with the boys, fully immersed in holiday happiness. Sunday afternoon, after Five and I returned home from a lunch with Santa at a local arts guild, the family took a drive to check out a new house on the market. We're looking for inspiration on the type of home we'd like to live in next and this particular casa left us all hot and bothered with its "green" design and construction.
I grabbed Five's hand and we walked back to the truck while my husband took Q. back to the house for one last look. As I opened the car door for Five, I heard a male voice yelling. I looked up and lo and behold, I was the intended recipient of his tongue-lashing.
"Hey, get out of here. You can't park there," he yelled as he walked his dog. I looked up at him, not understanding why he was saying this to me. "You can't park next to a fire hydrant," he went on screaming. I looked behind me and realized that I had indeed parked near a fire hydrant -- it was located about five feet in from the street and buried in mulch from the home where it rested.
"Thank you for letting me know -- I honestly didn't see it," I replied, genuine in my apology and recognizing my error.
"Don't be an asshole," he yelled at me. The car door was still open as I was helping Five. I was stunned. I have never been yelled at by a stranger, much less called an asshole to my face and worse yet, with my five-year-old son right next to me.
"Excuse me," I yelled at him, "There is a child present."
"I don't care," he continued. "Don't be an asshole and park your car in illegal places."
I walked around the car, intending to get in and let it go. But I couldn't. I had to apologized him. And not only did he insult me -- he did it in front of my son.
"Why don't you show some manners when children are present," I yelled at him as I opened my door, fully aware that Five was watching and listening. My voice wasn't filled with anger; I just said it, strong and serious.
"Hey," he screamed back, "Show the neighborhood some manners and learn where to park." He continued to sputter on and I looked back and saw my husband walking towards me wondering what in God's name was going on. I realized how grateful I was that he hadn't heard this man sling his harsh words my way. When I told him what had happened, he agreed. What husband wouldn't go ballistic hearing a stranger yell at his wife and hurl a few choice names in her direction?
As we drove away, Five told his dad, "That man was not being nice to Mommy."
I wanted to cry. Hard hot tears. I was so angry at him for ruining the fun and excitement out of our visit to this gorgeous home. For insulting me. For insulting me in front of my son. For his lack of a kind heart. For his inability to see beyond a parking space.
Somewhere along the way for this man, showing a neighborhood manners became more important than showing people -- and children -- respect.
I could think of a few good names for him but I'm too ladylike to use them...out loud.
