beulahbondo's Diaryland Diary
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Ram on, part 2
So toward the end of a perfectly pleasant getaway to small-town New York last week, I discovered I'm more of a Mass-hole than I knew. For those of you unfamiliar with the syndrome, it usually reveals itself outside of Massachusetts and in or near a car that you're driving. In my case, parking.
As I parallel parked between two cars on Main Street in Woodstock, I thumped the car behind me hard enough to make me go "oops" but not hard enough to make the scary sound of ripping metal. It was merely, I swear, the thump of plastic on plastic.
So I'm locking the door and a guy is bent over inspecting the bumper of the car behind me. "Are you conscious that you hit my car"? he asks. I reply, "I know that I bumped your car with my bumper" and cross the street to the knitting shop without further ado, or adieu.
Mass-hole Beulah! No apology, no concern, and believe me, I usually apologize if I have an awkward moment trying to pass through a public doorway. I've been known to say "whoops" to inanimate objects. It was something about the cold way that he spoke, and certainly his use of the word "conscious" that made me not care about his concern, but mostly it was come ON! That's what happens when you parallel park, right? You bump the other cars! I don't do it for sport, but it happens!
Do you agree, gentle readers? Am I both a Mass-hole and right?
Pictured above, one of the conscious beings I visited in Phoenicia, the velvet-pelted lap-sitter Kitty Gumdrop.
Tomorrow: Some thoughts on the Beatles.
10:12 a.m. - 2004-11-15
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