There’s nothing better than being stuck in traffic with an old lady behind you leaning on her horn giving you dirty looks to kick you right out of the holiday season mood and right into “Where’d I leave my cleaver?” fever.
If you’re familiar with Hunt Valley, you’re probably familiar with the Gucci Giant shopping center at York & Shawan Roads. There are two entrances: one on York Road (exiting here, you can only go north), and another at the light at the intersection. Entering from the intersection, a lane runs down with three entrances/exits into the parking lot. The first is right past the Bank of America (a standalone building at the top of the center), the second is right before the Giant Food, which anchors the north point of the “L” shaped center, the third is located past Giant. From here, you can enter a VERY small lot along Giant’s side, and this also serves as an entry point for delivery trucks servicing the center.
It was my plan to drive to this third point and park in the small lot. This makes, I’ve found, getting out of the center far easier. However, when I entered that lane, I found an SUV stopped at the first entry. Why was it stopped? Because the traffic lights are timed like shit, traffic was backing up into the lot trying to get out. People trying to get into the lane from the first entry are pretty much screwed, and one person, impatient and unwilling to wait, had pulled her car out into the lane, hoping someone would let her in. No one had, and so she was stuck until the light turned green. Meanwhile, the SUV she was blocking couldn’t go anywhere, and neither could I.
No big deal. Just had to wait a couple of minutes for the light to turn green, and once traffic got moving, she’d be on her way and so would the SUV and I.
And then the hag entered the shopping center and came right up on me, honking before she’d even stopped and shooting me the dirtiest looks I’ve ever seen on Christmas. It was like I’d kicked in her front door and butchered Santa Clause as he stepped out of the chimney, disembowling the jolly present giver in front of her grandkids, then mashing his balls into a testicle soup and force-feeding them to her pet pillow-dog, before ass raping the dog and shoving it down the garbage disposal. I tried to give her the “shrug” to convey the message, “Lady, what do you want me to do here?” but she just kept on honking.
I know what was going through her mind: “Hurry Up! I have to park and hurry to get into the store so I can be a geriatric cunt bitch and take five hours slowly pushing my shopping cart through Giant fucking Food slowing down the other customers and staff and generally being a bitch.”
Finally, when her honking reached the point where I wanted to smash her head into her steering wheel a few thousand times, I cut the steering wheel sharp to the right and managed to squeeze my car between the curb and the SUV. Before completing the move, I made sure to turn around in my seat and give the old lady a big beautiful view of my middle finger.
She was, at this point, too busy honking at the SUV to be outraged.
Why was I at Giant? Because my bank has a branch in the store, and I needed to make a deposit and get a roll of quarters. Next time, I’ll go at 7am where the batfuck insane geriatric fucks too wrapped up in their own delusional views of their own self importance are still, hopefully, in bed, where their delusional batfucking isn’t making my borderline homicidal on Christmas Eve.
After making this deposit, I was going to go to Bruce Lee’s for lunch (for my money, the best General Tso’s chicken on the York Road corridor in Baltimore County), but considering that it’s located in a shopping center with another grocery store and their parking lot is probably overpopulated with geriatric assholes, fuck it: I’ll have scrambled eggs, toast and beer instead.
I’m going to find a radio station playing Christmas music and relax.