In the Driver's Seat

On street cleaning days there is an unspoken rule that you can double-park your car on the side of the street opposite the one being cleaned. (Did you get that?) On my street you can do this until 12:30 PM, then you must park your car legally or get a ticket. Last Friday at about 12:20 I got a phone call from our beloved doorman, Albert. He informed me that I had double-parked beside a car whose owner wanted to get out. Annie was home from school that day so she and I headed downstairs, and before we could see the car in question, we could hear it; its horn relentlessly blaring. When we got outside we spotted the car, and in it sat a man in his thirties, dark hair and glasses, middle class and probably highly educated. A little girl slept in a car seat in the back. The man had a furious look on his face and his hand pressed firmly down on the car’s horn. Now, I've been parking in Manhattan for 17 years, on this street for 8, and never has there been an issue, not once. Being a car owner in the city comes with a special set of rules. There is an etiquette and a code, and most of us live by it and it works. Annie and I continued our way toward the car and Albert followed. (I should mention here that my double-parked car was only one of about 40 that lined the street). I calmly approached the man’s open window and said, "12:30 is the time to move the car, please relax." And he replied …YOU FUCKING BITCH! MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR! YOU’RE LUCKY I DIDN’T HAVE IT TOWED! I’M CALLING THE POLICE! I HAVE PLACES TO GO, NOW MOVE YOUR GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKING CAR YOU BITCH! (Hand still pressed on horn).

Fortunately, I’ve been the recipient of rage very few times in my life, but when it’s around I tend to get very quiet and feel almost a sense of peace. Though I was about to move my car, I decided to wait. I asked Annie to please walk away a bit, which she did, and as the man continued his tirade, I put down my things and stood next to his open window. Albert, who is protective of me and especially of Annie, seemed somewhere between wanting us to get in the car and not wanting to give into the demands of the man. Albert stood beside Annie and allowed me to handle the situation, but I could tell he stayed there incase we were physically threatened. Remaining perfectly calm, I told the angry man that I would be happy to move my car once he stopped abusing me. And he replied … "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING WHORE, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE YOUR CAR PARKED HERE, IT’S AGAINST THE LAW, NOW MOVE YOUR GOD DAMN CAR!!! And the crazier he got, the quieter I got. Then I said, (ever so softly) "You could have called the police or a tow truck, but it is legal for me to be parked here until 12:30. You obviously have a rage issue and should be thankful your daughter is asleep and not witnessing your behavior." And he said, … “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH, MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR, I HAVE PLACES TO GO!!!”

I then flipped open my cell phone to check the time and indeed it was 12:30. (Time to move the car) I slowly gathered up my things and turned to Annie who was, up until that point, watching the scene play out and taking it all pretty well. Then I said, "Annie, look at this man. This is a man who is the opposite of your daddy and the opposite of any man I ever want you to associate yourself with." And the angry man said …"NO ONE CARES ABOUT HER FUCKING DADDY, NO BODY EVEN KNOWS WHO HER DADDY IS!!!

And that's when Annie burst into tears. Albert cursed him for making a little girl cry; I dropped my things and went to her. And as the raging continued and the horn went on blaring, I held her in my arms. “I don't want anybody to abuse you or talk about my daddy like that," she wept. I did my best to comfort her and then Albert took her by the hand and started to walk her to the car. He had to pass in front of the angry man's car and I said, "Albert, be careful." Albert turned and shot me a sharp look. "I will go to jail!” He said. “I will go to jail!” And with the man’s hand still pressed down on the horn, and his daughter asleep in the back, I slowly loaded my things into my car.

If I’d felt we were in danger I would have handled the whole thing differently. I would have complied in a minute, jumped in that car and took off like a bullet. But I knew Annie and I were safe, and Albert's presence was the kind of comfort you carry in your memory for a lifetime.

Why was I the recipient of a man’s rage that day? Why was I thrown from my horse on Sunday and am now spending the week in bed and in pain? I could see these things as unfortunate or awful, or I could open my eyes wider and see a more whole picture. I was given a rare opportunity to show my child one way to react to rage. I also witnessed my own cruelty and was aware of the pleasure I got from not giving this man what he so desperately wanted. And now, days later, I'm even able to feel compassion for the poor guy. Being thrown from my horse re-taught me a lesson I thought I’d already learned, and in both incidences I was reminded of the kindness of friends as well as strangers, and that we are never alone.