Obituary for Common Courtesy

To say that I had lost respect for most of my fellow man would be somewhat of an understatement. Rather than courtesy swaggering about as the expected norm, a sort of me-centric attitude had become the invasive practice in the burg of D.C. Metro and regardless what act of magical liberality was performed, it was greeted with the nonchalantness generally reserved for servants of royalty. The disregard for social minutiae should have come as no surprise when I approached the father of one of my son’s schoolmates and informed him that his son had just slammed his car door into the side of my truck and tattooed a grinning dent on the driver’s side door.

My request was simple enough, delivered with as much humility as I could muster given the Grand Canyon that had just been imprinted on my vehicle, “Excuse me, would you mind asking your son to be more careful when opening his door next to other people’s cars. He just opened his door into my truck and scratched the paint and left a nice size dent.”

“He did not.” He replied.

“I beg to differ; I just watched your door bounce off the side of my truck.”

“You know, these spaces…they’re too small.”

“I’m 6 feet tall, much bigger than your son and I managed to get out of my truck without hitting yours.” I said, my blood pressure clawing its way to my temples, and the all too familiar anger-twitch visiting my lip.

“I’m parked between the white lines.”

“So am I.”

“Let me see the white lines.” He said exiting his vehicle.

Age and fatherhood have served me well, and while similar circumstances would have been the calling card for confrontation in my youth, my son by my side and the generosity of wisdom visited upon me by the absence of adolescence placed a lid on my anger containing it just out of reach.

He walked around to my truck, “As you can see, my truck is within the lines as well.” I said.

Perhaps my expectations were too great, and with visions of gallant courtesy arriving to slay the me-centric demons, I stood by waiting to receive my prize – an apology however, unlike the fairy tales and more true to life, I would not live happily ever after.

After mumbling something, he retreated to his truck and proceeded to leave. Disgusted, I followed suite and left for home.

The next day, while retrieving my son from school we were walking along the path that leads to the parking lot when, we were approached by the father.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he said. “I don’t speak English very well and didn’t understand everything you were saying. I didn’t park in the parking lot today; I didn’t want the same thing to happen, so I parked out by the street.”

All I had intended was to bring the incident to his attention and all I expected was an apology. He held out his hand and I took it and everything was right.

Apparently I was wrong…Courtesy is still alive and reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated.