It is the Story Of Modern Life.
The parking lot for my gym (and an annoying couple of other businesses, like a Laser Tag facility and a little-girlie-girls’ ballet studio) has two broad double aprons, each big enough for a couple of large SUVs to cross paths. Which often happens. Yesterday, though, a medium-sized white station wagon was situated athwart most of the curb cut just at the time I needed to leave — angled sharply left, so that no one could pass in either direction, and blinking.
Well, waiting for someone to make a left turn isn’t a fate worse than death, even if you’re running a bit behind the clock. I sat there patiently. Traffic from the left followed traffic from the right. There were a couple of brief openings, but I hate people who honk — I don’t have quick reflexes myself and I never take chances on the road. Time ticked by. The street emptied out. The car didn’t move.
By now there was another vehicle behind me. Severally, we backed up enough to regroup at the other apron and bugger off down the road. The white car was still there as we passed — the driver abstractedly texting away.
There is never a water balloon handy when you need one.