My brother was trying to pull out of the grocery store parking lot, during rush hour, and in the process of waiting for someone to let him in, he was blocking a turning lane. Well, the guy trying to get past us and into that truning lane did not appreciate this.
A stream of both Spanish curse words, and your more regular run-of-the-mill English ones spewed forth from his driver side window. I fully expected him to pull out a gun. I would be that tourist you read about in the papers. Wrong place, wrong time.
I on the other hand, hunkered down as low as I could in the back seat of the covreted handicap van. (Long story). Who yells at someone driving a wheelchair van?!?! I prepared myself for the inevitable sound of gunfire.
My brother stood his ground in the face of such verbal atrocities. I prayed he wouldn't back down and put the van into reverse. Mostly because, when in reverse, the van is equipped with a loud back-up beeping system, not unlike a dump truck. As if this incident weren't uncomfortable enough, I couldn't bear the humiliation of backing up, tail between our figurative legs, embarassed and weak, accompanied by the sound of that ear-splitting cacophony of BEEP.....BEEP.....BEEP.
Finally, the guy swerved around us, narrowly missing the front fender, flashed us the finger and spewed one more cascade of vulgar rhetoric our way before speeding off down the road.
"I can't believe a guy who drives a PT Cruiser has a mouth like that."
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