Saturday, April 23, 2011

Bad behaviour in a carpark

Traffic can turn ordinary people into tools. Maybe the distance between us and the outside world creates the necessary privacy to act like a tool in ways we never would up close and personal.

This morning, a chap wanted to turn into a carpark. The streets were quiet, but there was a queue of about five cars ahead of him actually in the carpark, where one driver was leaving and another was waiting to take the spot and temporarily blocking the throughfare. It's Saturday of a long weekend, so there wasn't anywhere to go with any great urgency. (It wasn't a hospital carpark, for example.) He was waiting in a turning lane and was in no danger of being hit by another car while he waited. Nonetheless, he repeatedly blasting his car horn - maybe at the cars in front, or maybe just at the world in general.

What disturbed me more than the pointless rudeness and excessive aggression was that he had his small daughter in the car with him. She was visibly distressed. From the look on his face, he wasn't even much moved, the instinct to blast away appeared to be his habitual first response. (Like I said, tool.)

I was sufficiently moved by his behaviour that I walked over to his car to ask him what he thought it would achieve. He failed to make eye contact, and drove off as a bit I got closer. As I was feeling quite moved, I walked over to his car again.  I did this three times, and each time, he moved away without making eye contact.  I'm pretty sure he knew I was there. Bullies never seem to enjoy a taste of their own medicine. Even if it's administered by a pedestrian and they're driving a big 4wd tank.

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