Chivalry is dead.

Today wasn't all that remarkable, as far as days go.  That is, until I tried to leave work.

I turn off the shop lights, shut down the computer, set the alarm, lock the door, ponder the fun I will have scraping a quarter inch of ice off my windshield, walk to my parallel-parked car...and just stare at it for a while.  

Well, crap.

The lovely and thoughtful motorist driving the car in front of mine felt the overwhelming need to park their car a mere SIX AND ONE HALF INCHES FROM MINE.  (Yes, I measured.)  This might not have been a problem had the lovely and thoughtful motorist driving the car behind mine not done the same.

I'll say it again.  Crap.

So I did the logical thing and sifted through my options.

1. Wait in the store for one or both of those fine people to show up and kindly move their vehicle that I might move mine.  Nope, too much like a doormat.  I'd never forgive myself.
2. Walk home.  Nope, doable but hell...it's cold.
3. Go check at every restaurant in a two block radius for the owner and politely request that they attend to their car.  Nope, not my job, and I most assuredly would not have been polite.  And it's cold, remember?
4. Use my little Saturn to, ehrm, "redesign" the cars' bumpers to the point that I have enough room to maneuver.  Nope, while this would be oh-so-satisfying...I doubt I'd have the balls to go through with it.  Plus, in all likelihood, I'd only end up redesigning my own wee plastic car.
5. Go back in the warm store, call the police, let them tow the car, and then go home.  Yep, this is what I went with.

So, an hour after I tried to get in my car and leave, a cop shows up.  Sirens blaring and lights flashing and everything.  So the cop went and did cop things, including #3 from above.  She managed to find the Schmuck that had the bad judgement to park his car illegally behind mine.  (Did I mention he was parked illegally?  Yep, he was.)  So they come back as I'm scraping my car, which was about as much fun as I figured it would be (read: no fun at all), and it turns out that Schmuck is a Horizon league referee in town to ref the Butler Basketball game, I assume.  And the following conversation unfolded as I scraped my car:

Schmuck:  "Hey, that your car?  Young lady, that your car?"

Me:  *unbelieving stare at the ridiculous amount of belligerence in his tone*

Schmuck:  "What's your problem?!  There's plenty of room.  A little effort next time, huh?  I'm parked legally.  I don't know what your problem is.  How much room do you need?"

Me:  "Well, enough that I can actually move the car without getting your silver paint all over my bumper.  Two feet of space would be great."  

(Did I mention he drives a silver Ford Escape?  Yep.  So anytime you see a silver Ford Escape in the midwest, feel free to key it for me.)

Schmuck:  "You got two feet.  There's a foot there *gestures to the front of my car* and a foot there.  *gestures to the rear*  That's two feet."

Me, after some more staring:  "Actually, it's only 6 1/2 inches.  I measured.  Pft.  Is that the kind of judgement you use when you ref games?  No wonder you're still stuck in the Horizon league."

Schmuck, now very red in the face:  "Fine, let's go.  Move your car."

Me, not so much staring anymore as coming up with creative new uses for the extendo-windshield scraperbrush in my pissed off little hands:  "Uhm, no.  I still have to close my shop and finish scraping my car."

Schmuck:  "Are you kidding?  You had an hour to do that."

Me, beyond caring, totally losing it, and gesturing wildly with the aforementioned scraper:  "Dude, you are the one who blocked me in, wasting an hour of my life.  Yaknowhat?  You're on my time, now.  Stop complaining."

Schmuck, not taking this well:  *manly groan of frustration and contempt followed by him getting into his car, slamming the door and moving it back about 8 inches, turning it off and getting out in a very pissed off fashion*

Copper, who until this point had just been watching and being police-like:  "Sir, you're now parked illegally.  Please move your vehicle."

I cannot even begin to express how much I laughed when the po-po made the guy move his car AGAIN...and to the parking lot not 150 feet away.  

So, I finished scraping my car, closed up shop (again), and finally got home over an hour after closing time.  

Where I promptly opened a bottle of shiraz and got my drink on.  Two-buck Chuck saves the day.

Fin.