The Picture Of Unreasonableness

(My grandmother, who is 84 years old, is a quite accomplished artist who has won awards and honorable mentions in multiple art shows over the years. She has decided that she would like to paint a barn for her next painting, so we are driving around outside the city limits taking digital photographs of barns for her inspiration. At each house we stop at, we knock and ask permission to take pictures, and everyone so far has been super friendly until we run afoul of a seriously nasty couple. My grandmother knocks on the door of the house to ask photographing permission, to which a girl appearing to be about 16 or 17 answers the door.)

Grandmother: “I am an artist and I was just wondering if we could have your permission to make a few pictures of your barn and windmill there?”

Girl: “I suppose…” *slams the door in my Grandmother’s face*

Grandmother: “Well, that was rude.”

Me: “Let’s just take the pictures and move on down the road.”

(I take about four or five shots of the barn on the property and the accompanying windmill next to it. We return to the car, pull back onto the road, and continue on. About a mile down the road, I notice the car behind is practically in my backseat, so, thinking it just some impatient a**-hole wanting to speed past, I pull aside to let them by. The car, however, pulls in behind me blocking my exit from the driveway. It turns out to be the psychotic parents of the girl back at the house.)

Man: “Excuse me! I want a word!”

Me: “Yes?”

Man: “I just saw you leave my house! What did you want there?”

Me: “Oh, we just wanted to take a few pictures of your barn. My grandmother is artist.”

Man: “Do you have a business card?”

Me: “No… My grandmother is just an ar—”

Man: “YOU CAN’T JUST WALK INTO SOMEONE’S HOUSE! PEOPLE GET SHOT LIKE THAT! THAT’S HOW PEOPLE GET SHOT!”

Me: “People get shot acting like idiots on the side of the road as well. Take your hand off my car door. Now.”

(At this point, the man’s equally insane wife exits the vehicle and begins yelling at me and my grandmother about how we terrified their daughter by knocking the door.)

Woman: “YOU CAN’T JUST WALK INTO PEOPLE’S HOUSES! YOU SCARED OUR DAUGHTER TO DEATH!”

Grandmother: “We certainly didn’t walk into your house; I simply knocked on the door. I wasn’t crawling through the window. What’s your problem?”

Woman: “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! THAT’S NOT WHAT PEOPLE DO!”

(Now the man is making a big show of writing down my license plate number as though he thinks this will intimidate me in some way. It does not.)

Me: “Sir, I’ve voice recorded and video recorded the entirety of your behavior here and I will be filing a harassment report with the police at my earliest opportunity.”

Man: “THAT’S FINE! WE GOT YOUR LICENSE AS WELL! YOU CAN’T JUST TERRIFY PEOPLE LIKE THIS! THAT’S HOW PEOPLE GET SHOT! I WANT A BUSINESS CARD! YOU DON’T HAVE A BUSINESS CARD!”

(I stick my phone out my window at this point at take a shot of HIS license plate, which causes both of these jackasses to at last return to their vehicle and tear off down the road, presumably to return home and comfort their 17-year-old daughter who was scarred and traumatized from an 84-year-old woman asking her permission to take a photograph…)