Den (dewhitton) wrote,

at the mall

They were strung out across the road. 10 of them in a single line abreast, dawdling down the parking lot road. I was idling along behind, car in neutral and using the slight grade to move the car forward. I did a quick mental calculation, and guessed at an average age: 65+. OAPs. Crumblies. There were no zimmer frames or walking sticks or bent backs. These were just inconsiderate people holding up the traffic. They knew I was there: most of them turned to look at me as I turned into the road.

And then... IT'S HER! She turned into the row at the other end of the lot. It was the blue-rinsed, bowling hatted, peer-over-the-steering-wheel, 70 in the shade, dark-green Maserati driver! She reached the max speed of the lot (20kph) and headed up the road.

And kept going.

The 10-abreast mob realised after a few seconds that Mrs Mazza was not going to slow down. They scattered! Several of them hung on to each other in front of my car. I'd stopped by then, of course, so they were safe. As one of the men walked briskly across the road he gave the two-finger salute to the rear of the Maserati and shouted to his friends "How rude is that?"

Dunno mate, I thought. You tell me.

They all made their way to the footpath and gathered in a knot, blocking that instead.

I wonder if Mrs Maserati has a shopping trolly.

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