Sunday, November 2, 2014

Showdown in the Foodland parking lot

As the half dozen or so regular readers already know, I'm a sucker for driving the Farm Manager to the Wiarton Foodland.

So this morning I was busying myself with the latest Thomas Friedman screed in that "International Edition" of the NYT that comes with my Toronto Star every Sunday, while the Farm Manager was busying herself with trying to decide whether to get the low pulp, regular, or extra pulp grapefruit juice, which takes about an hour and a half.

Mind you, we're well into the shoulder season in Wiarton now, the tourists are for the most part gone till next year, so I'm not sure why the parking lot was so busy.

It was busy like July.

The International Edition of the New York Times is just chock full of stuff I read on-line a week or two ago. Thomas, bless his soul, has discovered, much too late in the day, the ephemeral "two state solution" to the Israel-Palestine mystery...

While I'm reading this happy news, out of the corner of my eye I'm seeing a blue car backing out of the parking space in front of me... out of the other corner of my eye there's a red car backing out of the space beside me... oh my God!...


Two cars trying to occupy the same real estate... hmm.. this could get interesting. I pretend I'm still reading Friedman, but really I'm wondering what's going down next...

This is hunting country, and deer season opens tomorrow. Damn near every other person over the age of 12 has a fully loaded deer rifle in the trunk of their car, ready to go.

Blue car Buddy gets out of his car first. Older white dude, looks like he coulda been in a bar-room brawl or two in his day, and held his own. Steps back and surveys the damage to his car... then he moves for the trunk.

Red car Buddy gets out. Big fat biker type with a cigarette hanging off his lip. Must have just put his Harley away for the winter. Out of the other side steps biker mama, a plump tattooed woman who would make very short work of me in a arm rassle. Red car Buddy heads for the trunk of his car...

Oh my God!

This could make the headline news!

I slouch down real low in my seat, still pretending to read the paper. At least any of the deer rounds that are gonna be flying in a few seconds will be slowed by sheet metal...

Buddy and other Buddy by-pass their trunks and head to one another's cars.

I'm sorry!

No, I'm sorry!

I checked my mirrors...

Ya, I checked my mirrors too!

I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry.


I'm expecting a shoot-out in the Foodland parking lot and these guys are seeing who can out-apologize the other!

For fuck's sakes! It might be a bunch of hillbillies in the hood, but are they ever civilized! They recognized within 30 seconds that they were more or less equally culpable and more or less equally wounded.

Nobody called the police and nobody called a lawyer.


Now, back to Friedman...

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