…about it my whole life. But standing there with a loaf of bread poking out of my backpack and my arms aching from a gallon of milk, I was genuinely struggling to understand how I fit the profile of a heavy-duty truck driver.
“Ma’am,” I started, shifting the heavy grocery bag to my hip. “I don’t own a car.”
She wasn’t having it. “Don’t lie to me! You people with your compensating monster trucks think you own the lot! Move it right now so I can get in my car!”
I looked down at my worn-out walking sneakers, then at my bulging grocery bags, and finally back to her. “I literally walked here. I live three blocks away. These are my wheels,” I said, pointing down at my feet.
“I saw you walking away from it!” she shrieked, her face turning an impressive shade of crimson, completely ignoring the evidence right in front of her.
“I was walking past it,” I corrected her, trying to keep my voice calm despite the utter absurdity of the situation. “Because it’s parked directly between the store exit and the sidewalk.”
She crossed her arms, aggressively blocking my path, fully convinced she had caught the culprit. “I’m calling a tow truck if you don’t take out your keys and back it up right now.”
At this point, the frozen dumplings in my backpack were starting to thaw, and my patience was melting right along with them. I gave her a deadpan stare. “Call them. Call the police too, while you’re at it. Tell them a pedestrian parked a truck too close to your hatchback.”
I stepped around her and kept walking. She spun around, yelling a fresh wave of creative insults at my back about my height, my attitude, and my “terrible parking job.”
I was about thirty feet away when the loud, electronic honk-honk of an alarm unlocking echoed across the asphalt. I paused and looked back over my shoulder.
Striding toward the white pickup was a guy who easily stood six-foot-five, built like a brick wall, and wearing steel-toed boots and a neon construction vest. The lady froze mid-rant, her mouth hanging open in stunned silence as this absolute giant effortlessly squeezed himself between the two vehicles, hopped up into the driver’s seat, and fired up the roaring diesel engine.
He didn’t even look at her. He just threw it in reverse, backed out smoothly, and drove off, leaving her standing entirely alone next to her little orange car.
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as I adjusted my backpack straps. Sometimes, relying on the subway and my own two feet is a bit of a hassle. But today? It was a front-row seat to the best comedy show in town.
