Unfiltered Story #28264

Some of those parking-lot drivers get their pants in a twist at NON-drivers like me; one driver, seeing me emerge from the store, shadowed me like “Abbott & Costello Join Hawaii Five-O”.

When I crossed aisles by squeezing through, eventually Inspector Clumseau got pissed that I hadn’t reached my car and profanely asked where my f*cking car was.

When I informed him I was en route to the bus stop, he went full postal: “Why the g*ddamn F*CK are you leading me all over the g*damn parking lot?”

I replied, “Excuse me…exactly WHEN did I say ‘Hey, buddy… follow me and you can have my spot!’???”

So he tells me I should’ve gone by sidewalk..which would have taken me 500 feet in a different direction.
So I said, “Jeez, pal…you got me; I actually got up this morning and planned on aimlessly wandering the parking lot, hoping to piss off the first shitbox Nissan with a mismatched fender and Bondo patch job I could find!”