Driving Ms Seoul Sista

So, I was driving (no, that isn't the punchline) in the Palms the other day turned a corner to get into a parking behind a mercedes SUV--you know, the ones that look like old school range rovers but cost a heck of a lot more money. He looked like he was trying to get into a space about 3 cars out and so I came to a full stop, giving him more than enough room to manouever and get his fancy car into the space. He starts backing up because, he is kind of a crap driver apparently and he could not swing out and swing in. He started getting too close, so I lean on the horn to give him a warning toot, and lo and behold, the dude backs into me. Might I remind you again, my car was at a complete stop.

Mr I-drive-a-fancy-car-so-I'm-right gets out the car and starts yelping, "look what you've done to my car! You are going to pay for it" in probably the fakest accent I've heard in a long while. In my head I was like "shoot, don't think you can scare me with your fake Jand accent, I can put on an American one with the best of them" and I get out yelling "You just backed into me! What the hell were you doing!" After a brief shouting match he parked his car, and I parked mine. For some odd reason I decided to check the hood (bonnet to you non-Americanese speakers) and saw that it was warped.

So I decide to chase after the dude to get him to pay for the damage, I am one broke-ass chick, in case you didn't know. I chased him into the palms and tell him "'scuse me, you warped my hood, you need to pay for it". That, apparently was too much 'grammar' for him because he looked absolutely baffled by the word 'warped'. The gentleman (term used extremely loosely) went on the offensive with, "you are gonna pay for ma caaa". The conversation then devolved into a full out shouting match in the refined aircondtitioned hallways, that continued as we argued our way outside. I accosted police men, the general public and anyone who would listen, and all looked very amused and not in the least bit concerned. After him throwing out some very sexist comments "go call your brother, your husband to come talk to me because you don't know the right grammar", "how long have you been driving" things finally come to a head. I am literally screaming myself hoarse at this point in time. All the foreigners were slack-jawed, with bemused look on their faces, probably wondering what this raving lunatic with the American (by this time I was at the "this ain't ma faul' you can't drive yo' shit" stage) accent is doing, bellowing at this guy.

A couple more accusations followed; (a 5'7" 180 pound (you know that's a lie) woman was 'bullying' a 5'10" 210 pound dude, I was unhinged, in shock, blah, blah, blah) and I was pretty close to tears, when he suddenly caves asks for my number and said he'll fix it. Give him my number, he calls me that night and says his 'panel beater' (the guy who does his body work for you non-Naijanese speakers) will fix it, which is supposed to be this saturday. We'll see how it turns out folks, so stay tuned.

Some Seoul Music: Could not find a more appropriate tune that one of my current favourites Spazz by N.E.R.D because I really spazzed out that day. Craziness is not a lifestyle; it is a way of being.