Driving home from the laund-ro-mat, Sarah and I were listening to the radio and Green Day’s Welcome to Paradise was playing. I was commenting how it was interesting that the song was about Oakland, which, coincidently, Wilson is set. Just as I was explaining that Wilson was saying that Oakland wasn’t so bad and interrupted his thought when he caught a glimpse of a bum defecating on the sidewalk, my own explaination was interrupted.
Ahead of us, a beaten down car, probably a Chevy Nova, was rattling along slowly. The car came to a hault at a stop sign, and a woman exited the vehicle from the passenger side. Leaving her door wide open, the hairless wampa opened the rear passenger door, leaned in slightly, and began yelling and screaming. I presumed she was yelling at a child.
At this point, I was trapped behind them, waiting to turn right. The driver had switched on his hazards, but was still sitting in the middle of the road. With the song about living in a depressing slum playing in the background, it seemed nearly surreal. Now, I know it is nowhere nearly as bad as anything mentioned in the song, nor is it as bad as someone taking a dump on the sidewalk, it does kind of make me despair for humanity.
After a few moments of her yelling, it was over and they were on their way. A terrible moment, come and gone.
Ah well. It’s off to work with me.