Cranky Noona

We headed to the Preston Market in the morning. The traffic was quite heavy, which is nothing unusual now a days.  I wondered how long it will be before Melbourne stops winning the most liveable city in the world, is it, due to its traffic congestion, due to the over supply of apartments? (Of course, my cynical side wonders if we are just the country that pays the most money to the deciding board?)

We pulled into the market car park and waited in one of the parking isles for a car spot. That is what I always do at the Preston Market, just pick a spot and wait and eventually a car right near you leaves.  No fighting. No arguments. I had inadvertently turned the wrong way into the isle, against the arrow. I waited for somebody to complain, but they didn’t, as people turn the wrong way into these lanes all the time. The cars seemed to be leaving the car parks at the other end of the isle, one by one, but none were leaving our end of the isle. So we waited. The cars coming from the correct direction cleared several times and once, or twice, there were no cars coming from the other direction. 

Then a man finally came and got into a white Subaru right next to us. I put on my blinker and waited for him to leave. By this time a beige Laser had entered the isle from the other direction and was waiting at the far end. When I put my blinker on, she did too. She drove up close to the car spot. The Subaru backed out and turned in our direction, which was going to make it harder, than it otherwise would have been, to drive into the car spot. Missy Laser drove forward, I drove forward, the Subaru drove away. Missy Laser was determined and so was I, she had the advantage, but even if I couldn’t get in, I was determined that Missy Laser wasn’t getting in either. I drove forward in front of Missy Laser and she gave in pretty quickly. 

She was an Italian Noona and she was shrieking something out her window. We parked. She remained stopped in the isle just behind us. I walked over to her window to offer her some words of advise. She was a barrel of a woman sitting behind the steering wheel just slightly off skew due to her bulk. She was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, which, I would say, was from anger, rather than fear. She had various baubles and beads hanging from her rear vision mirror.

“I have been waiting for 15 minutes, you have only been here…”

“You were coming the wronga way…”

“I was here for a long time, at least 15 minutes.”

“It’s a nota your car park, you come the wronga way…” she shrieked.

“I have been waiting here patiently.”

“You pusha in! You taka my car park…”

“No, no I didn’t.”

“You have to gotta geta in the lane’a and a waita with everyone else.”

“No I don't," I said. "Besides, there was no line from your direction for some of the time.” I pointed to the far end of the lane from where she'd come.

“Vat you did is illegal! Its illegal!” she shrieked.

“Show me the rules that say that.”

"Oiy?"

"Show me the rules?" This was a stretch, I knew that.

“I’ll calla the police.”

“Call them,” I said. “Do you want me to call them?” I acted as if I was reaching into my pocket for my phone.

“You steala my car park.”

“I was here long before you…”

“You are wronga, it is my car park, YOU STEALA MY CAR PARK!” She was beginning to froth at the corner of her mouth.

“Ah, notit is not.” And at that point I walked away. She was still shrieking out her driver’s side window.

I should have said, “I bet you have cute grandsons,” but, of course, I didn’t. That would have shut her up… or lead to a round of homophobic shrieks, quite possibly.

We bought tattsLotto tickets. I told the nice ladies in the tattsLotto shop.

“She said it was because I’d driven the wrong way up the parking isle?”

“No, people do that all the time,” they said. “That is ridiculous.”

“I’m shaking,” I said. “Why am I such a wimp?”

“No,” said the nice ladies behind the counter. “It is not nice when people yell at you.”

I bought cigarettes as I was shaking from the run in with Noona. Sam wasn’t pleased about that.