We are leaving WalMart on a winter night. Dave unlocks my door and quickly starts the car while he throws our bags in the back. I buckle my seat-belt and I’m singing when I look up and notice the SUV parked nose to nose with ours. The man in the passenger seat seems to be glaring weirdly at me. I feel color rise to my cheeks as I think, “He must think I am talking to myself.” A flutter of a giggle almost emerges, but I decide to keep singing. I glance back and think “He has the angriest expression.” Then I chide myself for thinking poorly of his face, that is just the way he looks. How paranoid am I, I wonder?
Suddenly in very agitated and exaggerated movements, he reaches over and turns on his headlights.
Oh, now I see. Our headlights come on right away when we start the car. We didn’t mean anything by it, fella, really. We didn’t even know you were in there. They aren’t bright or anything. I wasn’t staring at you, ‘promise. I nervously keep singing to keep from bursting into laughter at the fact that he WAS really giving me ugly looks and I was somewhat oblivious, only believing myself to be judgemental.
As Dave climbed into the car, I turned my head towards him in case my parking-lot-counterpart was a lip reader, but couldn’t stop the giggling from tumbling out as I said, “I think we ticked that guy off. I think he thought we just turned the headlights on him on purpose.”
Apparently he was a lip-reader. For at this time, in an even more exaggerated way, he flipped on his brights and we backed out totally blinded by them and unable to see if this brought him any satisfaction, whatsoever.
Really, guy, we meant you no harm. I can’t help it. You are still making me laugh.