Road Rage in the Stanford Parking Lot

      It is Monday Morning -- and I was feeling yuck and John was feeling yuck and we are up and running to Stanford, slightly late but not beyond the norm.
      Then we hit HEAVY traffic on the Dunbarton bridge and down University Ave. Unusually so. There were sig alerts all over the roadways.
      Oh well.
      Once in a while it is very, very bad and a 40 minutes trip turns into 90.
      At my age, you learn to ignore it and plow on. It is beyond your control. Put on music and sip water, coffee, soda, whatever.
     
      Well, someone in the parking queue needs to learn that lesson.
      First, she was in the left lane - which means turn left, Dummy!
      And her husband, a big guy in a full blown hummer, was in the right lane, which means turn right, Dummy!
      And there is a little security dude there to help them remember this.
      Well, it seems he was to follow her, which he must have confused because he was not behind her.
      I was, unfortunately.
     
      So she stopped. Which means I stopped. A few minutes maybe, but she showed no signs of moving.
      And anyone else coming in was stopped.
      And he is talking to the security guard.
      Well, it must be that the big man in the big hummer cannot do his own talking because the cow was leaning out her window and screaming at the top of her lungs at the security guard and yelling and making threats.
      I hit the horn (lightly). Like, wake up. You are blocking traffic.
      She gave me the finger.
      Oh Lord! I am quivering at the wheel. (Right!)
      The guard was telling her to move, she was blocking traffic. Over and over.
      Instead, she got out of the little beige car and started yelling and screaming (if my truck was older - I'd have moved her vehicle by now).
      She came up to my door shaking her fist and blowing off words. She yelled at the security guard some more.
     
      Then she got back in her car and started in the lane, and ----- stopped.
      She did this several times until I just laid on the horn. Was she trying to have me hit her in my shiny big Tacoma? (Not much smaller than the Hummer by the way - I have sat in one.) I could have "parked" her car for her. Permanently.
      She was screaming out the window (what I pretended not to hear), her husband, who had parked his hummer behind me in the disabled lane, was screaming ( a low hum in the background).
      Evidently this big man in the big hummer has a disability tag - one has to wonder at that.
      My son with life-threatening disabilitating cancer and me with asthma and arthritis and old age, well, we do not.
      I ignored him. I refused to be on their level.
      Now, at any time, she could have pulled to the side, let traffic through, and continued her fit without involving other people.
      This is a women who is either on drugs, or needs to be.
      When I wouldn't stop the horn (because I wanted other people to watch this mess and alert security - and it worked), she parked. She is a road hazard.
      I pulled across the way and parked.
      Whereupon her husband walked over to lean over (higher level in the garage ramp maze - we were on an incline) and "watch me" - but on seeing my 6'1" child, all skinny 190 lbs of him, get out of the car, the husband shut up.
      Prune-faced bugger.
      She was walking at us still screaming and I was jotting down her license plate.
      Jail bait.
      Got his too.
     
      I went for security and told them to call the cops.
      The cops came and said --- no crime.
      Wait a minute, assaulting a security guard, even verbally, IS TOO a crime.
      Threatening people and behaving in a violent manner near a hospital IS TOO a crime. Road rage in the parking lot. Code Gray to be specific.
      So they were going to talk with her.
      And the security guard.
      My son was a witness.
      Someone else had also seen and reported it.
     
      I went and had a coffee.
      My son is on IV.
      I am now at work.
      The cops left a message - they are still trying to "find her".
      Lovely. Witnesses, license plates and we can't "find" the witch?
     
      She wasn't parked there when I left (the hummer was). Evidently he will have surgery and drive the car.
      My son said she looked like a squawking chicken.
      She had on a horrid suit.
      Evidently her big tall husband can't take care of his little self.
      She reminded me of my mother on one of her rants back when. Short women with a short fuse.
      Remember that my mother needs to be in a home (literally) and under care (absolutely).
      We do not encourage her to drive. We do not encourage her to be around people.
     
      All I can say is it's a good thing my 9mm is locked up at home.
     
      I was sooo tempted.
      Clear the gene pool!
     
      I went to work and laboriously carried in a computer table - 6 weeks and none here.
      The tented keyboard is next.
      And then there is the software that is holding me up.
      That's when I had the message that they hadn't located her but "left her a message".
      Ha!
     
      I did check my truck for damage before I left the parking lot.
      She was demented.
     
      No surgery could be as difficult or as important as the hell my son has been through.
      I haven't attacked anyone yet.
      (Well, bitch and moan when the drs screw up, but then I am entitled to do that.)
      I certainly don't look like I need to be physically restrained and sedated.
     
      She has no excuse.
     
      And she's out there driving.