They owe me a dozen roses

I work for a major university and they seem to think that because they're big badasses in football, they need to upgrade the stadium. Fair enough. So...the apron of tarmac at the north end of the stadium is where I've been parking for nigh onto ten years now and it's been taken over by Bob the Builder and his little Builder Boys, and all their toys (hey...poetry, who knew?). It's not bad enough that on game weeks, we lose our parking starting Thursday for TV crews, now we have to contend with construction sprawl (and yes, a flat tire on my truck...whole other long story).

Okay, so construction workers get bored, and hey! who am I to be uncharitable? First performance: The crazy redhead (when I was still trying to keep the color up) drives up in her big black truck and pulls in a spot, problem is, when I come out I'm hemmed in and there's a dumpster behind me that wasn't there in the morning. I pride myself on my driving...I really do and it's been a source of pride at times and a source of embarrassment over the years when I fargel it...and when I fargel something, I can take pride in the fact that I've done the best fargeling there is to be done...

So, to the great amusement of the tired, hot, dusty and mostly non-English-speaking Builder Boys, I back and fill, back and fill...like trying to undock the USS Nimitz. Okay...luke warm overture to the next act.

Next day, I pull in a spot, the hidden ones close to the street. Fine. I come out and sashay over to my truck and hop in and crank the bass up and prepare to show these guys just how a truck is supposed to be driven...rapidly, in reverse...right into the pile of scaffolding frames they've stacked behind my truck during the day. I can't see them, you see...and curse and jump out and say wtf loudly and some big bruiser decides he's going to guide the little lady out...

Wrong move, Bubba. This only proceeds to piss me off more and I say to him as I dash past, I wouldn't need your damned directing if you didn't pile shit behind my truck! (Inside, I'm cringing inside and trying to ignore the Tex-Mex hoohas as I roar off). Thank you..thank you...

But all is not over...there's an encore.

Next morning, I come roaring in and park in a spot and stomp off toward my building...only to discover that overnight, they have placed a fence across the opening....back-tracking I pass a Builder Boy...Man--he's about my age--holding a cup of joe and and grinning at me. Before I have a chance to turn red, I stomp past and tell him, if it were up to me, I'd tear this damned thing down and build a 40,000 car parking garage!!

I didn't stick around to take my curtain call.