GERALDINE SPRINGER - PT. 2 !!!!!

Ok, so we last left off together with a little poem, a preclude if you will, to the following account.  As always, my account comes to you pristine and untarnished, as it actually occurred, here in sunny Queens, Noo YAWK.  Because you really can't make this shit up.

Over the years, parking on the residential streets has become a real pain in the ass.  Our neighborhood used to be one of the better ones with that, but now it’s “catch as catch can” all the way.  Over-crowding and general retardation as far as a lot of these morons being, basically, spatially-challenged parking pigs.

Me and my husband rent a modest ground-floor apartment in a small multiple-dwelling.  Directly in front of our abode is a fire hydrant, and directly behind this hydrant is a parking area that is JUST big enough for 2 mid-sized cars. 

You can NOT BELIEVE how that friggin'  FIRE HYDRANT throws these idiots for a loop.  They are terrified of being, like, within 1,000 FEET of this thing, and inevitably they take up BOTH parking spots just to MAKE SURE they are FAR ENOUGH from the dreaded HYDRANT.

Now, some days I can handle this nonsense.  I just go look for another spot and that’s it.  But then there are these other days when I come home from work, my boss has chewed off my last nerve and spit it at me, my bum leg is killing me, I have to pee, I am 5 seconds away from getting my period AND I can hear Herman trying to gnaw the door handle off from inside. 

And it was just such a day, my friends,  JUST SUCH A DAY…that GERALDINE SPRINGER (not really her name, but I will explain later) decided to pull a real dipsy-doodle with that fucking parking space in front of our domicile.

This day, there were NO available spots on the entire block or within the two block radius.  I pull up at my house to see this teeny-tiny, oh-so-shiny, cobalt-blue CORVETTE convertible TAKING UP BOTH PARKING SPOTS.  Given the miniscule size of the car, how they even managed this was amazing to me, but manage they did.

I seen plenty of other drivers pulling this crap before.  As I mentioned, sometimes I’d just shrug it off.  Other times, I’d leave nasty post-it notes on their windshield.  (“LEARN HOW TO PARK, EINSTEIN”)  (“DID YOU REALLY NEED TO TAKE UP TWO SPOTS???)  (“NEXT TIME, BACK IT UP 10 MORE INCHES, PLEASE”).  You get the idea. 

But something about THIS park-job irked the living shit out of me.  I figured out that if I parked THISCLOSE to the ‘Vette, with * maybe * enough space to slide a dollar bill between cars, I’d JUST make it so that I wouldn’t get a ticket because of the hydrant.  And so that’s what I did.  After I parked, I surveyed my handiwork.  Hmmm…it looked like I MIGHT be SLIGHTLY TOUCHING the Corvette.  But just barely.  I considered moving my car up an inch, but then thought: “Oh, SCREW THEM.  LET ‘EM COMPLAIN.  MAYBE NEXT TIME THEY’LL LEARN HOW TO PARK PROPERLY.”  Then I went inside and forgot about it.

Chris gets home from work about an hour later.  Dogs have just been fed and I’m typing away, as usual.

Chris: “Well, honey – ya really got up in that little sports car’s FACE out there, din’tcha?”

Me: “What?  Oh – yeah.  Jackass, parking like that.”

Chris: “Yeah.  But you’re reeeeally close to him.”

Me: “I know – too close?  Think I should move our car?”
Chris (looking out the window, considering):“Nah, hell with it.”(Looks again)“Fancy car.”

Me: “Yeah, fancy-pants ASShole.”

A short time later, we’re getting ready to watch a movie.  The bell rings. Someone is at the front door. 

(Kindly insert horror-movie music here: )

                                DAHM-DUM-DAAAAAAMHHHH!!!!

Now, Herman loses his mind barking whenever the doorbell rings, and this time was no exception, so even tho’ our front window was open, I could only vaguely make out a female voice saying something to the effect of: “Is this YOUR car ovah here?” and then Chris answering Yes, it is.

And then, as the Great Goddess is my witness,  the decibel level of this broad’s voice sky-rocketed so violently and so rapidly that it defies categorization.  It was like – the TYPHOON of raised-voice gymnastics.    My blood runs absolutely FRIGID at the sound of it and Herman nearly FALLS ASS-BACKWARDS off his bay window perch, for once in his pain-in-the-ass life silenced, now just staring in complete shock.

“YOU AIN’T GOTS  NO  RIGHT   BEIN’   ALL   UP  ON   MAH  CAR LAK  D’AT!!    D’AT    CAR    IS    MINES  AND NOBODY BEST BE THINKIN’    HE GONNA BE   DISRESPECTIN’  MAH   MUTHA   FUCKIN’ CAAAAAAAAR….”

Let me just tell you this, my dear friend.  Any POSSIBLE delusions I may have had about being ANY kind of a bad-ass have been completely dispelled and obliterated FOREVER AND EVER from THAT MOMENT FORWARD. 

I was seriously soooooooo fucking terrified by this woman, I really could not believe it.  Me and Herman stood together, huddled behind the curtains, just trying to catch a glimpse of her.  It was twilight and rapidly darkening outside, but I could see (and hear) that she was a black woman, had major BLING going on, too-tight designer jeans and some kinda fancy, also too-tight spandexy-ho’-shirt.  Also sporting a weave. 

Spittle was flying from her heavily-glossed lips as she continued screaming to beat the band.  There was NO WAY IN HELL I was going out there.  I just remember thinking: “If I take one step out this door, that bitch is GONNA SNATCH ME BALD-HEADED or WORSE.”  I believed that THEN and I believe that NOW.   

Anyhow, Chris was really calm about the whole thing.  I don’t know how the hell he does it, but he just comes off so reasonable and sane in the face of things like this that HE scares me sometimes.

Chris: “Well, is your car damaged?”

Geraldine: “THAT IS NOT THE POINT.  THE POINT IS THAT MY CAR HAS BEEN DIS-RESPECTED.”

Chris: “Oh.  Ok, well, if it IS damaged, just get an estimate for the damage and bring it to me.”

Geraldine: “AAAAGGGGG ! ! ! ! !   MAH   CAAAARRRRR”…….

She ended up being ushered away by some of her surly thug friends who live all the way down the block.  They meandered over, drawn by the ruckus no doubt, since this bitch could be heard within a 50-block radius.   Seems she was ‘visitin’ from Bushwick and d’at car is all she got’, as explained to Chris by one of her more conversational pals.   

Now, I’m not an idiot.  When the Universe provides lessons for me to learn, I try to pay attention and learn them.  And I definitely learned a lesson from this occurrence.  And this particular lesson would be as follows:

That no matter how clever, or how ballsy, or how JUSTIFIED I think I am in a given situation, I NEVER REALLY KNOW exactly WHO it is that I’m dealing with.  And this goes for friends and strangers alike.   If you catch THE WRONG PERSON on the WRONG DAY, at the WRONG MOMENT, you may just get A LOT MORE  THAN  YOU  BARGAINED  FOR.

Oh, and I dubbed this babe GERALDINE SPRINGER because when Chris came back inside, the first thing he said was: “Wow, she’d be a perfect guest on the Jerry Springer Show!”

SO!  Live and learn!   While this happened a few months ago and we haven’t seen (or heard) Geraldine Springer (or her caaaaar) since then, I have stopped parking thisclose to the idiots who get on my nerves by the HYDRANT SPOT. 

And I’m proud to announce that I’ve also tapered off quite a bit with the post-it note action.  But sometimes I just can’t resist.  Baby steps. 

P.s. – Weekends off for me, my loves!  It’s in my contract!  Have a great one!