Warning: This post will contain CAPS because in my head tantrums happen in capital letters.
Dude storms up to my friend and intensely yell-talks like he’s a grievously wronged Liam Neeson character out to righteously punch his problems away. “Do you drive a blue Subraru?”
“Yes. I do. That’s my car right there.”
Exasperated snort-grunt. “Well, that’s my parking spot.”
“Oh. It is? Sorry.”
The dude takes a few steps closer to her and turns – if possible – redder. “I pulled up to the GODDAMN TICKET MACHINE and put in money AND YOU TOOK MY PARKING SPACE.”
Now she’s really looking and sounding really flustered. And I’m feeling nervous. This dude is bigger than us, angry, yelling, and starting to corner us against the ticket machine and our daughters are there, drinking this all in.
“All right. I didn’t mean to take your spot. I was just going to park and then buy a ticket but if you move your car you can have the space.”
So the mom gets herself and her kid, who refuses to leave her mom’s side and is now demanding Casper Babypants increasingly more loudly and insistently, in her car as fast as humanly possible while the dude backs his car away from her bumper still glowering away and talk-yelling about the many, many injustices he has just suffered.
A few observations:
Let’s start with the obvious: This dude is behaving like a dick.
This made me think about adult tantrums. Because that dude was totally throwing a tantrum only he didn’t show nearly as much perspective, self-restraint, and reasonableness as the three year old did.