A couple of days ago, the weather folks said it was going to snow here in DC. Being the snow-experienced smart cookie that I am, I quickly figured it would be chaos around here, so I got my boots on and went grocery shopping during normal working folks business hours. (At some point I will explain the apocalyptic hilarity of snow and southerners.)
Anyway, yesterday I needed to venture out again and so I headed to my little car. She was covered in about 3 inches of snow. I pulled my trusty snow-broom out my trunk (a souvenir from Cleveland) and began to sweep. 3 inches of snow all over the car takes a while to remove, as you might imagine.
So I'm working on the driver's side of the roof, and a red minivan pulls into the parking spot next to me. The driver maneuvered a really bad parking job, enough to make me jump a little, and she went into the building. I didn't think too much of it, because there was still ice and snow on the sides of the parking spaces. She returned a few minutes later with a walkable small child and an un-walkable small child.
I'm still on the driver's side. We exchange pleasantries, and then I realize she's just standing there. I look behind me to note that she has opened the minivan passenger door and is now waiting for me to move away so her precious cargo can be inserted. I grudgingly move, thinking that she could have walked around the minivan and saved me the duck-walk I do on snow, especially since that side was dry. But no.
I am now done, and I open my driver's side door to pop the trunk and return the shovel. I head back, open the trunk, and bang said shovel on the ground to remove snow, in the time-honored tradition. This is when I realize that my door is blocking the sideview mirror on her car, rendering her helpless. She can't move the van without hitting my car. Needless to say, banging the broom took longer than usual that day. And as I returned to my car and got in, I smiled sweetly at the lady and mouthed, "Sorry".
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