I wasn’t going to write this anecdote. It rose from an extemporaneous encounter that both tickled me and irritated me.

I went to our local large warehouse superstore after work. In part due to the desire to buy some chicken and in part to engage in some frivolity. I parked near the end of the lot as I often do. For no reason, I sprinted up the parking lot. Behind me, I heard an engine revving. Assuming it was a testosterone-deficient display of horsepower, I kept running. After all, someone has to keep OPEC funded, so such blasphemous displays of tacky overkill are important to both the economy and to aftermarket parts stores catering to those who think the epilogue is something people say at a funeral. As I slowed to traverse the crosswalk, a horn blared at me. It was as loud as an angry housewife at 7:30 p.m. on bowling night.

Turning to wave, I saw that the horn emanated from a large pickup truck. The man driving had put his window down. He shouted at me. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”

Confused, I looked down at the crosswalk and then pointed at it. “I always do,” and laughed.

I could see that my humor and my short truthful quip was not pleasing to him. I was still confused. He drove up behind me as I ran and there were no other vehicles crossing the perpendicular plane of the lot adjacent to the store. My a$$hole detector sent off a warning bell in my head.

Time to play.

“You heard me. Are you being smart with me?” His voice rose in intensity.

“I wouldn’t dare. Your wife wouldn’t recognize such an attempt.” I laughed even harder and stood looking directly at him.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if I got out of this truck!”

I wanted to say, “I’m not sure you could, absent the use of a crowbar and can of Crisco,” but I didn’t.

Instead, I said, “I am NOT going back to prison for this!”

His face froze as the words I’d said sank in. “Just be careful of where you’re going!”

“We’ve established this already. Any new business you’d like to discuss?” I definitely laughed my ass off with this remark. I knew I could outrun him. It was doubly obvious I could outsmart him by challenging him to a one-syllable spelling bee. A part of me wanted to take off running to the end of the lot just to see if he’d attempt a chase.

I am pretty sure his wife had told him, “Let’s go” at this point. As y’all know, this is an infinitely ineffective strategy with this sort of esteemed citizen. It’s right up there with “Calm down!”

He gave me the middle finger. Not to keep, of course. He limited himself to showing it to me with considerable enthusiasm.

I did what any red-blooded American guy should do in this situation: I bowed formally. When I raised up, I gave him a big thumbs-down with my right hand.

“I love you,” I shouted as he drove away.

Did I make friends today?

Love, X