In Cars

By now I think everyone is pretty aware that Milwaukee is one of the country's most segregated cities. Some say Milwaukee, due to this segregation, is one of the most racist cities. While I think all of the above are true, I've also come to learn of another -ism that is a pox on our houses:

Agism.

Wednesday night Team Bananafest gathered at everyone's least favorite suburban bar and grill (seirously, can we start looking for trivs elsewhere?) and things were amiss. Everyone was running late, we weren't able to sit at our usual table, the quizmaster was some Peanuts-AuthorityFigureCharacter-Talker/Lenny Kravitz fan, and our usual shitty waitress was replaced by one that was nicer, but inexperienced.

Jbones comes in and tells us that he just got yelled at by some old broads because they thought he parked to close to their car. Jbones, ensuring that he was indeed 10 feet away from the fire hydrant, had to back up pretty close to another car. Was he close? Upon inspection of the vehicle, yes he was close. Was this old bitty unable to get out of her spot? Not in the least. So he's telling us that as he's walking in these ladies sitting on the patio were like:
"Excuse me! Do you think you left enough room for that car?"
Jbones: "What? Yeah it's fine."
OL (old ladies): Are you SURE because it's her car. (OL one motions to her OBFF).
Jbones kind of shrugs his shoulder and walks in.
So as he's telling the story, OL (owner of the car) COMES IN and rests her matronly hand on Jbones shoulder to which Jbones responds: Don't fucking touch me.
The woman is going on and on about who rude and disrespectful Jbones was. To which Jbones just kept saying, "Don't touch me. You touch me again, I'll call the cops."
The woman, visibly flustered that her mom-moves weren't working on our table yells at Jbones as she's walking out: "You're just a fucknut!" (In all fairness, some at the table thought she might have said Fuckhead. Either way, we're pretty sure we saved this woman's dog from being kicked as that was a lot of rage to let go over an imagined parking issue).
Jbones: "You're a fucking snob!"

The night ensued with us winning at trivia, and, big surprise, the woman being able to get out of her parking spot with no issue. She didn't even have the gumption to key Jbones' car or anything.
GOLDEN LAME.

I could be wrong, as I have no scientific data to back this up, but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have had this altercation with a woman of her age/class or a man of her age/class. But because we're a young and scrappy lot, she felt the need to aver her authority.
And you know, maybe she was a parking checker, and maybe, legally speaking, Jbones was on the close side to her car (is there even a law against this?), would you get that angry? Would you follow the perpetrator inside a restaurant to give him a piece of your mind?
I've been parked in before (has she ever been to the east side?), worse than she was, and have been able to get out. I've never been that angry about it. Crap happens. I'm sure I've done it as well.
When it happens to me, I say something like "Oh for heaven's sake," and do the turnthewheelalltheway-reverse-turnthewheeltheoppositeway-forward, rinse and repeat.

I think another issue here is that a lot of people view their cars as extensions of themselves. They rely on their car to promote some kind of image/class/status that they do have or they would like to have. They are the kind of people that lame car commercials are made for.
Jbones' car is to get him from A to B.

As is my cavalier, which I often sit my ass down in:
After the Yes concert at Summerfest, PO, EC and I got trapped in the biggest bumblefuck of a traffic jam ever. We were literally on one block for almost an hour.
It's hot out. Tensions are rising, and as luck would have it we're on the same block as a parking lot.
So not only are we just trying to move, there are people in the parking lot trying to get out. You also have the resident idiots who "create" a far left lane  to scooch ahead, which only exacerbates the problem one you actually get to the intersection.
Needless to say, we were all very crabby and this green Buick LeSabre-esque car totally exits the parking lot basically into our car--not hitting it, but in such a fashion that we have to let him go.
Windows are open and I say, "Are you fucking serious? Come ON."
And of course he gets all super-macho-thug on me. I can't remember all the words that were said but I know he told me to "Sit yo'ass down."
Jj: I am sitting down. I'm in a car. One has to be seated in a car.
SMT: Sit yo'ass down in yo' Cavalier.
Jj: Way to contribute to the situation.
And we just started laughing.
1. Because who uses logic when arguing with strangers? Me, that's who.
2.As if the type of car I'm in matters? ESPECIALLY when he's driving a sedan as well? Not even a sports car, or big monstrous SUV, but pretty much the same exact car as me, and he's driving an earlier model even.
I'm pretty sure he said it as an insult, but I can't for the life of me figure out why, unless he assumed that this car was an extension of myself. But even then--what is wrong with a Cavalier? ESPECIALLY in comparison to his Buick?


And then the more I thought about it, the worse I kind of felt.
Not about anything I said, or my reaction. I was quite proud of that.
But I felt bad that this guy only had his car to be proud of.
If he's judging MY car as if it's inferior to his, (and maybe it is, clearly I'm not a car person, however I am a Cars person--here she comes again...), is he expecting to be judged on his car too? And if so, then I missed the boat on Buick=Awesometown, USA.

And now for you listening/viewing pleasure: