A: I don't know either, but she has Nebraska plates.
I hate people. Bunch of jerks.
I was sitting in my car today (at a complete stop) at Wendy's about to order a baked potato, when suddenly I felt a jolt and heard an unpleasant plastic on plastic noise. My first impulse was to think that I'd let my foot off the brakes and hit the car in front of me, but I could see that this wasn't the case. I looked in my rearview mirror, and just in time to see the guy behind me retract his middle finger, slam his car into reverse, narrowly miss the guy pulling up behind him, and drive off. He had a green light, but I got his license plate.
If you know the Wendy's on East Washington Ave., you know that it has one of the least intuitively designed drive-thrus in existence. Most drive-thrus are designed so that once you're in line, you can't get out until after you pass the payment window. This is sneaky, but at least you can get out of line if... oh, I don't know... like if you suddenly realize that you left the cat burning at home and you don't have time before work to put him out and get your Bacon, Egg and Coronary Biscuit™ with Hash Browns and Orange Juice-Flavored Drink. Wendy's on East Wash doesn't have this. Once you're in line, it's virtually impossible to get out. There is one lane and one window, so if you want to exit early you have to wait until you're up, and then make a mad dash as soon as the car in front of you has pulled out.
The guy behind me didn't quite seem to grasp the situation, and maneuvering myself out would have been difficult since cars were piling up behind him. In front of me was a woman who had ordered $47.11 worth of food, so I pulled up to the speaker, gave my order, got out and had a look at my rear end. It was in pretty bad shape, but the back of the car was fine (oh, I'm so witty). There were scratches, but they were more minor than the ones I get just from living downtown. I was about to get back into my own car when the guy behind me stepped out of his and yelled, "Sir, do you need to get out?" No, thank you, not anymore.
When I got back I was telling one of my coworkers about this, and as a consolation she gave me a fortune cookie. My fortune?
I thanked her for the cookie, picked up a packet of duck sauce and said, "hey, what do you think is the best way to warn people that you're about throw condiments at them?" She couldn't figure it out so I told her. She said "Colin, we love you and everything, but are you sure this is the way you want to start the new year?"
I apologized profusely.