Recently I found myself in a full parking lot, looking for a space. People were leaving, other people were waiting patiently with their turn signals on, others circling the lot hoping to simply happen upon an empty space. I waited patiently for my spot, reverse parked, and started walking towards the store. In front of me was a small white car with its turn signal blinking, waiting for another customer to drive away. Just as the spot became free, a large blue pickup truck sped its way into the spot. Out came a man and a woman, presumably his wife. He looks at the driver of the car whose spot he just stole, and said, point blank: “I DON’T CARE”, and walked towards the Costco Garden Center with his wife. I simply muttered to myself and my girlfriend about how much of an a–hole that guy was and how I was sure I was going to be stuck with this memory in my head forever. I definitely don’t want to be the guy who steals someone’s parking space, even accidentally. Even more than that, I wouldn’t want to discover I had done that, and instead of even apologizing, make it clear that I am inconsiderate of other people. That only winning matters. That’s what I think about that guy in the parking lot. He fancies himself an Alpha Male. Does whatever he wants and wants you to know it. I hate that, but I shouldn’t hate it. I shouldn’t feel any which way about it.
I don’t have any reason to hold onto such an insignificant event unless it is meant to teach me something about who I would be. I really ought to do that for all of my “traumas”, if they can be called those. Sh-t, for the life of me, I can barely remember anything from college and university, but things that upset me; things that embarrass me; things that I did more than half a lifetime ago and no one else remembers? Those things are readily available, vivid and loud, waiting for me to re-experience them. And it was me, not someone else. I was the a–hole. I made the mistakes, and I can’t shake them off.
For a (maybe funny) example:
My third year of university, I pre-drank at my home before going out to the campus bar with my housemates. The weather report called for rain, but we were all drunk and stupid and thought it would be fine and took a cab to the bar anyway. When we pulled up, it turns out that the line was very long to get in, so we stood there, inching forward, losing our buzzes and our patience. I didn’t lose my buzz much because I was very prone to pre-gaming the bar aggressively. Unfortunately, before leaving home, I had chosen not to “break the seal”, which is the first pee of the night, which sets off a cascade of frequent peeing that results in sobriety. Not desirable. So… we’re in line, impatient, and now I have to pee pretty urgently. It begins to rain pretty heavily. I hold out for another few minutes before I have this brilliant idea… to go the f— home. I’m drenched and miserable, and home is just a 10 minute walk downhill. So I decided to do what comes naturally when already soaked to the skin.
I peed my pants, and then I walked home.
Brilliant. Five Stars. Would absolutely recommend.
So what’s the lesson here? Pee before you leave the d— house.
There, that was an easy one.
About the guy in the truck? I’m less bothered about parking lot etiquette and more bothered by his attitude about it. “I don’t care” attempts to justify somewhat antisocial behaviour towards strangers. I use the phrase jokingly sometimes “at least I’ll never see them again” if I do something embarrassing, so I can leave the event where it lies, so to speak. The way we treat people carries on, it can ruin their day, and it ruins your character. That’s what I want to learn from this so I can let it go. I am not insignificant. If being rude to someone has the potential to affect them so strongly, how much better would you feel if you were kind to them instead? I’d rather be kind. That’s a good enough lesson.
Maybe for nostalgia’s sake, I’ll listen to old music and see what kinds of trauma I can bring to the surface.