Tuesday, November 7, 2006
Fun with Borat, and Other Foreign Men
Sometimes, in a relationship, one person does something that tests the other person. It could be something little, like perhaps they leave a wet towel on the bed, or possibly, they buy really expensive shoes for no reason other than that they're cute...maybe they subsequently abandon said shoes in the direct path of the doorway. * Or it could be something bigger...Like accidentally abandoning your husband while he deals with the large angry man that you inadvertently pissed off. My husband J and I had decided we had to go see Borat, and while I'm forever scarred by what I shall refer to as the "wrestling scene," it was awesome. But that's not really the point of this tale. As we arrived at the theater, we observed that the parking lot was extremely crowded, and there was a lot of jockeying for spots. As we drove straight down the main thoroughfare of the lot, a large SUV darted out halfway from another row, and then proceeded to honk at us. I guess, because we were driving in a straight line down the main street that he was trying to turn onto without observing in any way, or signaling. I secretly have a touch of road rage, which is triggered when other drivers pull crap like this. This is not good, as I am a tiny little person, and probably could not defend myself against an irritated toddler, much less anyone operating a motor vehicle like an ass. Now J was driving, not me, but still I was irked. I didn't do anything too terrible; I just threw up my hands and got an incredulous/annoyed look on my face, in the universal signal for "dude, what the hell?!" Assuming that this thing was over, and realizing the parking situation was bad, J dropped me off in front of the theater. The very SUV with whom we had just had this exchange then pulls in front of us sideways. I assumed there was a spot nearby, and he wanted to grab it first, to beat us to it or whatever, so I hop on into the theater to pick up the tickets, without turning around. Some time passes, and it dawns on me that its taking J a really really long time to find a spot. I receive an urgent phone call from J a few minutes later, telling me to hide or something, as the driver of the SUV was after me. So...it seems that the driver had erroneously construed my little gesture as something much more insulting; namely, the finger. This had angered him. He was not, as I had thought, going for a nearby spot when he pulled his car in front of ours, but rather, boxing in our car so my husband couldn't move. My husband then felt it imperative to share with me that the driver, a burly Russian man, with implied mob connections, and a definite temper, was looking for me inside. He had spent the last few minutes haranguing J about my giving him the finger (I didn't! I swear!), and making vague general threats. And I, oblivious to it all, had accidentally left him to deal with this, when I was the one who caused it. I felt so bad. (Needless to say, the guy was obviously in the same movie as us. Of course.) On the bright side, the next time I leave a wet towel on the bed, it will pale in comparison to this. *Okay, I actually do all of these things.