Something struck me while walking to the office yesterday

I mentioned that Geldersekade, the street where my apartment stands, is narrow. It’s a one-lane, one-way road along a canal. There is a sidewalk area, sort of, but it is obstructed by parked bicycles in as many places as not. So people walk on the edge of the street. This is how I go to the university. 

A fast-moving service truck clipped me yesterday. Winged my shoulder with its passenger-side mirror. It wasn’t any more forceful than being bumped by a pedestrian. But it was pretty surprising! And it flattened the mirror against the side of the truck. Get this: The driver didn’t slow down or stop to check what happened. And it didn’t appear he went on not knowing what had happened – because he sped up! And an arm reached out the passenger window to make sure the mirror was okay and to extend it back into place! They tried to make a getaway.

But fortune played a trick on them. Up the road just past the Waag was a street-cleaning crew, and when the street-cleaners stop, no one gets past. So the truck is now stuck in a cute little Dutch traffic jam, and they look in their rear-view mirror and they see me coming.

I’m trying to decide what to do. I’ll confess to being a little angry about it. But I’m not even bruised. Because I had on my dress shoes rather than my trainers, and was not carrying a huge coffee cup, they would have had no idea I was American and most likely armed. So I had a captive audience and all options.

There were two of them in the truck and the passenger’s window was down when I got there. One looked a little nervous and the other looked a little stupid. 

I looked at the mirror that had side-swiped me and I asked them, “Is the mirror okay?”

“Oh, emmm, ja, it is okay.”

“Good!” I said. “I was worried that something may have happened to it when you hit me with your truck. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Emm, yes I think so. It is not a problem.”

“What a relief! When you hit me with your truck, it might have gotten hurt. But it didn’t?”

“Everything is fine,” the passenger said.

The driver made a gesture to indicate how narrow the road is, then he pantomimed turning the steering wheel quickly one way then the other. “Very difficult,” he said.

“You can say that again!” I replied. “In the future, I should be much more careful! That way you won’t have to HIT ME WITH YOUR TRUCK!”

The passenger seemed pleased that the truck was unscathed. The driver has by now detected my accent, put two and two together, and is waiting for me to draw.

Staring at them, I slowly reached inside my coat, and pull it out, aiming it right at their faces.

Snap.

Snap. 

“Have a nice day!” I said.