C and I live in a really nice part of Dallas. I'm not trying to brag (for once), but it's really nice. To get a handle on what I'm talking about, think of the nicest part of your town. If you're not sure where that is, it probably ends in "Heights" or "Hills" or it is so nice that its just been abbreviated down to its initials (think O.C.). Yeah, I told you it was nice.
So, here we are, living in our nice part of town. But here's the problem with the nice parts of any town: rich people live there. "What's the problem with rich people?" you ask?
They're assholes.
Example:
In our very nice, very small, four unit apartment building there are only five parking spots. Being in the nice part of town, space is at a premium. One parking spot belongs to us, one belongs to the neighbor next door, one belongs to the neighbor in the unit above the garage and the other two belong to the unit downstairs. If you're following along and doing the math at home you've probably realized that there is no place for me to park. C gets the spot and I park on the street. What can I say, I'm a gentleman.
When a new rich (read: asshole) neighbor moved in downstairs, we immediately starting having problems with people parking in a way that blocked our only parking spot. "I'm sure it was an accident," you say. No. No one accidentally blocks in a car that is surrounded on three sides by two fences and a brick wall.
After experiencing this outrage multiple times and trying to eloquently point out that only an asshole would do something like that to another human being, C and I thought for sure that the message had been conveyed.
Until tonight.
We arrived home from Italian class (we're learning the language, not how to be Italian. Although that would be cool.) to find a Range Rover parked diagonally across our parking spot. Infuriated, I knocked on the door downstairs and said, "We're trying to park in our parking spot out back and there is a car blocking it. Again." The Asshole stared blankly at me. "Could you move it? So we can park in our spot?"
Blank stare. And then, "I guess I can go see what's going on."
I know what's going on, you self-centered megalomaniac. You're blocking our spot.
I get out back to find The Asshole looking at the Range Rover and looking at the six inch gap between the Range Rover and the fence and she says, "What's the problem?"
"The problem is that either I'm going to hit that fence or I'm going to hit that car." Maybe I'll hit your face, but that would just be for fun.
"I don't need your attitude. I'm not in the mood." Not in the mood? What the hell do I care about your mood?! Move your fucking car!
"Sorry if I sound a little upset, we just want to park in our only parking space and we can't." Because you blocked it, asshole.
"I guess you guys don't like me very much because you always have an attitude whenever..." Whenever...? Whenever you block our spot with your giant gas-guzzling asshole mobile?!
"Look, it's nothing personal. We just want to be able to park in our only spot." I'll kill you.
"Well, what am I supposed to do? There's not enough room back here." Not enough room? With your two car garage? Not enough room? Your two parking spaces have more combined square footage than our apartment.
"I've been parking on the street for three years now. Also, your lease clearly outlines where it is and is not OK to park." Learn to read, idiot.
"I don't feel comfortable parking on the street with all the break-ins recently." What? This is where I knew I could not possibly continue a civil conversation with this asshole. Remember that nice part of town you thought of a little while ago? Good. Now think about how often "break-ins" are a problem in that particular part of town. That's right, they're not! Why? Because nice, wealthy parts of town can afford so many police officers that no one would dare break into cars for fear of serious reprisal.
Fed up and unable to continue to hide my displeasure with the situation, I looked at The Asshole right in the eyes and said, "You're a horrible person. And you need to scale back on the amount of animal print in your apartment. It's tacky."
I'm afraid things might be a little awkward the next time I bump into her at the mailbox.
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