Trouble at the Bank

It was a lovely sunny summer day and we were out running a few errands, one of which was a quick bank deposit.  My husband pulled up to the front to drop me off and remarked about “the asshole that parked his van crooked in the handicapped space taking up two spots.”  I proceeded into the bank leaving him to wait in the car.  After a few minutes of waiting in line it was my turn.  As the teller was helping me with my transaction, we heard sirens and could see police pulling up outside the front window.  I remarked that it was definitely going to be something involving my husband. She smiled not knowing the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach because I knew my words were true. I completed my task and walked outside to see my husband and the owner of the van had been in a physical fight and both were separated and speaking with police. Both men bore the shameful, telltale marks of their scuffle….scraped knees and elbows, scratches, missing shoes, and broken sunglasses. Apparently my husband had confronted him and felt it was his job to reprimand his parking ability and check on his handicapped status. As expected, a fight of egos erupted. My husband of course as a retired police officer was given the benefit of the doubt even though he had started the confrontation and the other guy received a few tickets and an invitation to appear in court. Its’s just so draining to not even be able to leave him in the car alone for 5 minutes without trouble ensuing.  I just wanted so much to be anonymous and just blend in, but anywhere we went, we just never could.

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