Don't get between a man and his parking spot.

Today we will not speak of Whooping Cough or Algebra; though I still think both of the devil.

Today we’re going to talk about testosterone. It is a scary thing.

Sir D and I went out to dinner last night to discuss Will and his educational issue, which we are not going to talk about today on this blog.

Sir D has been working LONG hours at work. He is now in management and one of the people under him has been giving him pickled fits. It has been very stressful for him. He also has a cold and is just a little run down. Things have also been a bit stressful at home what with things from the devil and all.

We pull into the parking lot of a local Don Pablo’s Mexican restaurant. Normally Sir D will not go to a chain Mexican restaurant. We live in DFW, finding an authentic little hole in the wall Mexican place is not hard, but we were going for close-by and so that is where we went. Now I must say that the shirts they make their waiters wear should be considered criminal. Maybe that is why they were short on wait staff, I would starve before I’d wear that shirt, but I digress.

There we are, circling the parking lot, looking for a place to park. Sir D sees someone walking to their car and follows them; he waits off to the side to take their place when they leave. As we were waiting someone pulls up to the other side of where the car is pulling out and aims to take the space, but Sir D pulls in first; we had been waiting.

The guy in the little sports car started honking at us. He was not happy. He must not have seen us waiting (although we were in a king cab truck, kinda hard to miss) and thought we’d taken his spot.

Sir D was not in the mood to be pushed around by some ‘Punk Kid in Daddy’s car’. The Punk Kid rolled down his window presumably to shout unpleasant things at us. Sir D (who is not a small guy) hops out of the car and marches very quickly over to Punk Kid and his girlfriend, who are still sitting in the car.

If it wasn’t so embarrassing, it would have been comical. Punk Kid yelled “Hay!” at Sir D, in a deep, nasty tone. By the time Sir D made it to the car the kid’s tone had changed significantly. The kid said “Um, had you been waiting for that spot?” in a squeaky voice.

“Yeah, I had been, long before you pulled up” Sir D said in his deep voice.

“Oh, um, sorry” said the kid.

He and his girlfriend then drove off, looking a bit scared.

I sat in the truck shaking my head. When Sir D returned I asked him why he did that. Why didn’t he just let the kid and his girlfriend have the spot, or ignore the honking at the very least?

Sir D said “This is Texas, that boy’s gonna get himself shot if he keeps that up. I was just teaching him a lesson. And I’m not in the mood to be pushed around by some little Punk Kid showing off for his girlfriend”

Testosterone. It is a mighty powerful thing.