The Flipping Of The Bird

It occured while I was about to pull out of my parking spot on one of my routine (and by 'routine' I mean extremely rare) trips to Canadian Tire. I had just finished returning my tent that I used to camp with all week. My mom argued that this was much like buying a dress for a dance and returning it the next day. I argued that A)I had every intention of keeping the tent and B) they said I had 30 days to return it. I chose to exercise that right because the tent is hexagon, and therefore ridiculous. I stand by my decision and rights as a tent-purchaser (we're unionizing next week) especially since the sales lady tried to argue that it was a 7 day over the counter return policy. I told her "I'll policy YOU!" ...Ok I lied about that part.

The van in the parking space directly infront of me was backing out. I noticed him slam on his brakes abruptly as another car veered into the empty spot next to him. As far as I could tell, he didn't come anywhere close to hitting the other car.

All of a sudden, the car that pulled in next to him (a carload of full grown ADULTS in beautiful traditional Indian clothing) start sticking their hands out the window and flipping the guy the bird. The thing that amused me the most was that it was completely sporatic: one person, than another, than another, as if they were deciding to take turns. Sometimes they would go in two person combos, and by the finale all of them stuck their hands out in unison to crescendo to the worst middle finger slaying I have ever witnessed, all while muttering what I am sure were angry sentiments.

I couldn't help but giggle to myself as I pulled through and drove away. Mostly because for the life of me, I could not shake the mental image of the family as a board of "whack-a-moles" randomly throwing up their middle fingers and the guy they were flipping off hitting them with a big rubber mallet.