Sometimes I love living in our host country. Yesterday I did not. I think that our host nationals are rude. (Who says Parisians are rude? You have never been here!) Now, my disclaimer is that not all are rude...I have made some wonderful German friends. The chicken lady is not one of them.
I was dropping a book off at a friend's house and the layout of the road was such that I could make a giant loop---her house, around the block, back to my house. So, I drop off said book, and make my way up and around toward my house. I turn on to a somewhat small-ish street and in front of me is the chicken lady. It is actually a green and gold colored van that sells eggs out of it. (At one point in time, chickens were sold too. I have no idea why they are no longer available.) The chicken lady stops. Barely pulls over and this is a narrow street, my friends. She is in front of a driveway, which is illegal for any one other than a German national. I give a friendly beep, in hopes she will scoot a little to the right, so I can pass. She does not acknowledge me. Another beep. Nothing. I feel my blood boiling. Beep. The back van doors swing open in a flourish and I am told (rather nastily) to back up and go around. I am not attempting to turn around. I ask her to move over a bit. No, and the doors slam shut. Oh, she didn't, did she?! Beep. Long pause. Beep. Long pause. Beep. Long pause. Beep. (My children's ears are burning with what I spewing from my mouth right about now.) The lady that lives in the house across the street comes out for her eggs. (Really, she could have used the quarter mile walk to the corner store.) She throws her hands up and gives me a look. Oh, that is so the last time I chit chat with her when I see her! I am starting now to practice my stink eye. Eventually, a worker who had buckets of stucco in road moves them and I proceed to go around, with no joke, mere inches next to the chicken van. If I didn't have places to go, I would have pulled in front of that chicken lady, put my car in park and waited. But, I was too chicken.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I could feel my heart rate steadily elevating as I read this. Now I will patiently await for the stink eye tutorial.
Post a Comment