Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the Blue van had pulled an erratic u-turn and was zooming through the parking lot at break-neck speed in an attempt to cut us off before we entered the underground parking lot. We parked the car and waited to see if the blue hell-van followed. Sure enough, it slowed and parked a couple rows over. We waited to see what the driver would do, but he didn't get out; he just sat angrily staring out the front windshield until we got out of the car.
We slowly walked to the front of the grocery store and paused at the entrance to see if he would follow. He didn't. At that moment it occurred to me that my car was in danger of having the tires slashed, windshield smashed or of getting keyed. I encouraged Stuart, being the great mediator that he is, to go over to the blue van and try to diffuse the situation and find out what what the guy wanted. He vehemently
refused to approach the van and tried to convince me to ignore him and go get our groceries.
I decided that I wouldn't do that without getting the license plate of the minivan (just in case). I walked as close to the van as I dared (being nearsighted that was about 100 meters away) and turned to give the plate to Stuart so he could record it in his phone and realized he hadn't followed me. So I shouted the plate numbers out to him (and in doing so) attracted the attention of the psychopath.
"Do you have a problem?!" he asked me, as he slowly got out of the drivers side of his van.
"Ya, actually I do- Why did you follow us here, do you make a habit of following everyone that honks at you?" I asked.
"I can go wherever the fuck I want!" and he started moving towards me.
At that moment I decided it was time I turned into country-girl-rambo and I pulled out my knife (which is completely legal at just under 3 inches of length and is a button trigger- NOT a switch blade).
"You crazy bastard!" I yelled, " I have your license plate number now so if you plan on doing anything to my car..."
"Why don't you go inside and find out!" he threatened.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Stuart finally convinced me to abandon the confrontation and go into the grocery store. As I was walking away, the kind man reminded me gently to buy lots of salad while I was in there to combat a potential weight problem (however he may have worded it differently).
Where was big Stuart during this confrontation? Behind me somewhere? Sitting quietly weaving intricate needlework? It's possible. Turtle! That is all I have to say about that.
I didn't report him to the cops because (as Stuart pointed out later) I didn't know the number for the police station and he didn't think the incident warranted calling '911' because it didn't quite fall into the 'emergency' category. I somewhat beg to differ...and when I retold the story at work (at LEAST 10 times) it just kept getting better and better and I am FULLY convinced now that my life was in danger and I am practically a gladiator for standing up to a 10 foot tall giant!
Until next time, loyal blog readers...
