Yesterday was Yom Kippur, perhaps the holiest day of the Jewish calendar. We took a break from the synagogue in the early afternoon, driving back at about 3:30. I surprisingly found a good parking place on Quebec Street, across from the main door. But Quebec is a narrow street, and you cannot parallel park while cars are coming from the opposite direction, so I waited patiently for the opportunity to back into the space. The first car to come by me going in the opposite direction was a tan Mercedes, driven by an older woman, who was alone. Then there was another car, then a pick up truck, then an SUV. All moving slowly because of the congestion and pedestrian traffic.
Finally, I had the opportunity to move into my space. I started to back up, and what do I see, but that original tan Mercedes (who had made a U-turn in a driveway) beginning to pull into the space frontward.
I had my Joe Wilson moment. I gave my horn a loud and long honk (teruah!) and yelled (YELLED!) out “STOP!!”. She actually pulled out of the space (she could never have parked the way she was heading into the space in any event), and I was able to pull in.
Now, in retrospect, she was an old lady all alone (even though it is hard to feel sorry for a Mercedes driver), and I should have, especially in the spirit of forgiveness, atonement and all of that, ceded the space and continued my searching. The weather was nice, I was not in a hurry, and I never mind walking. But I didn’t. Instead, I turned into Joe Wilson. OK, reprimand me in well of the synagogue. I apologize.