The Driver (True Story)

One evening a few years ago I was walking in the city’s pedestrian zone (where cars are allowed to drive but at like 5 miles / 10 kilometre per hours tops, and are expected to give way to those on foot – it’s not a road – hence the designation: pedestrian zone – it’s basically an enormous zebra crossing – without the coloured strips on the ground).

I crossed the road walking and from down the hill to my right a car came up. One of those big fancy ones that cost more than most people’s yearly salary (I am no car person – I couldn’t tell you the model if my life depended on it – but it was the type that certainly looked like it costs $50’000 and up).
Yes, where I live some people might earn as money as that a year – but if they spent it on a car, they couldn’t afford food and shelter for that year – and if they buy regardless (meaning lease it or borrow the money) they complain about not earning enough… This story is not about those people.

So, the car came up the hill, I’d say faster than he should have, and the guy, talking on the phone (that’s how busy and important he was – at least in his own opinion) made no move to slow down when I was in front of him in the middle of the road.
I could only assume he didn’t see the sign saying ‘pedestrian zone’ and didn’t realise I had every business walking there. His licence plate told me he was anything but a local. I may not know cars but I know this much about geography.

Instead of dashing for the other side of the road, I stopped and shouted something like “it’s a pedestrian zone – asshole” in his direction. I most likely gave him the finger as well.
Seeing that he was in car on the phone he probably did not hear me but his anger was obvious when stopped right in front of me and got out starting to scream “How dare you!?!?!” or something to that extent. I repeated my previous exclamation – but can’t remember if it was with or without the expletive at the end.
Considering that he made no effort to get back in the car but actually started running towards me (it was maybe 3 meters from the car door to me) I might have called him asshole – because that’s what he displayed to me he was – in a most unmistakable manner to say the least.

I was half turned away by then – I was in a bit of a rush myself – having a train to catch. You might now think I started to run…

I am happy to say I didn’t have to.

He was at most halfway between the car door and me when both of us noticed his car was moving backwards. Ever so slightly. He didn’t pull the handbrake or put the car in Park to prevent it from obeying the common laws of physics.

I couldn’t help telling him that he was a fucking idiot that clearly can’t drive in addition to being an asshole and proceed towards the train station.
Maybe it was fortunate – for both me and him – that he couldn’t turn into the one-way street I walked away on, laughing from the bottom of my heart.

There are many smaller and larger takeaways from this – my favourite is this:

“Don’t be an ignorant asshole – because you might run into some laughing cunt that calls out on it.”