That’s One Way To Lock Horns

I parked in an underground car park at a small shopping centre. I parked nose in, next to a large pole on my left. There was an empty car space beside me when I went into the centre.

When I returned to my car with a full shopping trolley, a man had parked next to me, reverse in. He was on his phone, standing in between my car and his, with his driver’s door open, the door almost touching my driver’s door.

I gave him a nod to say hello, unloaded groceries into my boot, and returned my trolley. 

When I came back to my car, I said:

Me: “Excuse me, please.”

This was mainly so I could enter my car, thinking he’d realise I wanted to leave. 

He gave me the biggest sideways stink-eye, still talking on his phone, but he did move slightly and close his door so I could get in my car. 

As soon as I’m in, he opens his door again. Now, if I had reversed, my wing mirror would have clipped his door. And I can’t swing my car the other way because of the pole.

I lower my window, ask nicely:

Me: “Excuse me, can you close your door so I can leave?”

He glares at me, holds up a finger in a ‘Wait!’ gesture, and turns away.

Okay. I close my window, lock the doors, look at him directly, and lay my hand on the horn.

He spins around and oh, if looks could kill. He’s still on the phone. My hand is still on the horn.

He glares at me even harder. My hand is still on the horn. I raise my eyebrows and keep looking directly at him.

He gets in his car and slams his door. I take my hand off the horn. “Thank you.” I mouth at him with a sweet smile, and reverse my car.

Was I petty? Yes. Did it feel good? Also yes.