Going postal at Trader Joe’s

Last Friday, two good friends and I celebrated a mini project milestone by sharing a few margaritas with our colleagues. When our last meeting was finally over at 5:00PM, we slipped out to for supplies. We stopped at Trader Joe’s to grab chips and salsa to recreate the Azteca Happy Hour Experience.

The driver? Let’s call him Boston. Next to Boston, the stylish Calvin. I was in the back, behind Boston. Now you must understand, Boston epitomizes The Classic Boston driver. Take no prisoners, never uses turn signals, gets flipped off in traffic at least once a day. You may dislike aggressive drivers. In Seattle, I welcome, nay, worship them. They lend a much-needed dose of reality to our dismal, slug-like flow of traffic. Obviously, Boston really stands out. For example, he understands that a green light means go. I don’t even care about rudeness or safety at this point. I need some comic relief.

The three of us were talking about something semi-serious (I think it was actually work-related). We pulled into the parking lot, which is like most strip malls around here—terrible stores and parking spaces designed to accommodate golf carts. Adding insult to injury, the lanes between the mini parking spaces are extremely narrow, too. So we’re talking, talking, while Boston starts trolling for a spot. He heads down a random lane, and then we see it. It’s a black Subaru of some kind, I think, and it’s coming around the corner, towards us. We noticed it because it hit the curb, mid-turn, and then realized it was still headed our way. Hmm. This can’t be right, two cars can’t share this lane! Then, I notice the large, white arrow on the pavement ahead, clearly pointed at us…clearly indicating that we are going the wrong way.

Sadly, the Subaru driver (who can’t even drive, really) is actually right. Calvin continues to laugh at them anyway. Wait, let’s see how this turns out. Uh-oh. The Subaru is not backing up. Boston is not backing down. Welcome to The Parking Lot Standoff. The situation is so common—happens to me all the time, obviously, because we are in Seattle. I don’t enjoy backing down because I’m very rarely going the wrong direction (seriously, I’m obsessed with rules and I do try to follow them), so I usually stay my course and squeeze past the moron going the wrong direction. I admit, I’ve given in a few times, backing up and away from the moron, because I don’t want my car to get scratched or hit. I dislike confrontation.

But this is not your average Standoff. The Subaru jerks into Park. We stop talking. A small woman jumps out of the Subaru. She is small and scrappy, with bleached blond bob hair and bad anchorwoman clothes. She is red-faced, enraged, shaking her finger at us, indicating that we are bad, bad people, and she will die unless she can have the parking spot to our left, which Boston is so wrongfully blocking. We need to back the hell up, she’s right, we’re wrong. She hopped back in her car and waited for us to comply. Didn’t she want to check her back left wheel to see if she gouged the rim? Maybe later, when she’s done going Dog The Bounty Hunter on our asses.

From the backseat, I couldn’t see everything, but I noticed a few things:

1. The woman is roughly 45 to 55 years old, short, wearing a black leather jacket (hello, it’s raining, freakshow), looking like a JCPenney catalog, circa 1990. If I had to guess, her name is Lynda, and she is on a tight schedule to buy bad Chardonnay and bridge mix for her weekly Bunko game with the girls.
2. The woman’s haircut is quite choppy and bad, bordering on Dutch Boy paint can, except her blond color is grayish and looks like rotting hay. I can see her makeup (remember, I’m pretty far away from her). Her skin looks spackled with chalky base. She may be recovering from a face-lift or full-facial-Botox treatment. She is going ballistic, but her eyebrows and eyes are pulled high and tight. At the time, we simply agreed that she looked “fully cracked out.”
3. The raging kabuki woman does not resemble anyone I know (thank GOD).

This woman has foolishly stepped into a cage fight with one of the most aggressive drivers in Seattle…all for one of about 30 open parking spots at Trader Joe’s. It’s not a busy shopping day. Again, we are in BELLEVUE. Pencils down, pass your tests forward…lady, you failed the pop-quiz. I was in total shock—and I still can’t believe this woman actually got out of her car to mime-scold us. Boston usually gets away with every bullshit, dangerous driving maneuver known to man, weaving in and out of traffic, “merging” (cutting everyone off to pop into the only open lane at the last possible opportunity), in general, he’s a genuinely impressive stunt driver. He also rides a motorcycle. He is nimble, he is quick. I couldn’t see what he was doing at the time, but he said he just sat there, staring the woman down, deadpan. Calvin went from chuckling over the curb-hitting incident to hysterical laughter. I think I said something like “Oh my GOD! Well, she’s not gonna…? I guess we should just back up…seriously…uhhhh, Boston, OK…she’s freaking OUT! Back up. Really.” This is also known as the Overly Dramatic Wife/Mother Response—which loosely translates to “I realize that person is totally cracked out, but can we just cut the drama and get the hell outta here?” Boston acted perplexed, made a few feeble attempts at getting out of the way, but eventually backed up. All the way back.

At this point, the Standoff should have ended. You’d think the woman would high-fiver herself and just scoot into her beloved parking spot. SHE WON, correct? No. She just kept pushing us back, driving forward toward. She passed Her Parking Spot! When she was done, she didn’t park. She just drove off—and out of the parking lot. Coward. Liar? I was secretly glad that she wasn’t heading into Trader Joe’s. Is this the only crack whore in Bellevue? Did she get back into her car because she was embarrassed at her mime-scolding, or because she didn’t want Boston to run her over? So many questions.
There is no way I would freak out like that over some moron driving the wrong way down a one way street. Not worth it! Not even close. Maybe Seattle Drivers are growing a deformed spine. If this woman represents them, their newfound assertiveness is sadly misguided. A similar case: My hair stylist recently told me the last time it snowed, after work, she was sitting in her car, waiting for it to warm up. In case you didn’t know, women cannot begin driving until the entire windshield and all windows are 100% defogged. She was doing this in her parking spot, when some old man smacked his hand on her window, screaming, “are you leaving, or are you just going to sit there?!!”. The classic rule of hypocrisy applies here, I’m sure—had the roles been reversed, you can bet that man would have called 911 or punched anyone who dared to do the same thing to him.

I welcome assertiveness—it brings a shred of logic, justice and efficiency to traffic in Seattle. If my assertive driving is considered aggressive, as I pass slow drivers clogging left lanes, so be it. I don’t drive like an *******, but I won’t tolerate rudeness, either. You won’t find me holding up traffic in the left lane, deliberately missing green lights, or inconveniencing other drivers. A public display of rage at someone going the wrong way down a short parking lot lane in Bellevue…I mean, what the hell is the big deal? Yes, it’s wrong, but no small children would have died. People screw up, people test your patience, life’s a bitch. Let’s not get crazy. The woman could have easily backed up, just enough to give Boston some room to get out of the lane. She could have gone on with life, no fuss, no muss, barely interrupted. She would have been much happier that way, I have no doubt. I would have done the same, even if I had been annoyed, muttering obscenities under my breath. I certainly don’t want to be confronted by some on-the-edge psychopath in a parking lot.

If someone pisses you off, you do not jump out of your car and start miming gangbang scenarios. Seriously. If this kind of thing makes you that angry, you just can’t drive in public…and if unpredictable, erratic driving makes you that angry, you certainly cannot drive in SEATTLE. Go to New York—enjoy the attention for a few days, get shot by a cabbie who has real traffic to deal with. Get some perspective, lady.