Don't Breathe On My Tots

My personal space got invaded at lunch today.

Perfect Ryan just started a new job down the road, so I asked him if he wanted to meet for lunch. We decided on Sonic for burgers and kisses and Cherry Limeades for all. I got there first and parked in the shade. Even though it’s October 19th, the temperature in Nashville is EIGHTY EIGHT HOT DEGREES so I had my windows down and my sunroof open, enjoying the sunshine and listening to the radio. After about two minutes of my relaxed state, a creepy alley-dweller pulled up next to me in a tricked out white Buick with his stereo BLARING nasty hip hop (the kind without the words bleeped out). He stared at me for exactly 30 seconds too long, then hopped out of his car to order, stereo still blaring. I had to roll up my windows and shut my sunroof just to hear my phone ring. The thing that bothered me most about this was the scores of empty parking spaces – but yet he chose to park right next to me. And stare at me. And be loud and obnoxious and annoying. And stare at me. I had parked in that particular spot because no one was around and I could enjoy the quiet. Why would he chose to park his Hip Hop Heap six inches away from me? I’m certain that if we were at a half-empty movie theater, he would sit down right next to me, not leaving the obligatory empty-seat-between-us. If we were waiting in line at the bank he would stand too close, breathing on me.

Thankfully, he got his Sonic Tots to go.