Yellow Posts Protecting Important Things From People Like Me

You know how sometimes businesses put big yellow posts next to things they don't want cars to crash into? Well, I really hate those. About a year ago, I was pulling into the Gateway shopping parking garage in my big suburban. A homeless man was standing about 1/4th of the way in my little bitty lane with the arrow pointing down the ramp. I remember thinking, "Is that a homeless man? Is he in the lane? Is there a car behind me that could hit my big suburban end? Is he going to get over? Should I give him money? No, I'm not giving him money. He shouldn't be here, it's dangerous." I tried to drive slowly past him so I wouldn't get hit when I heard the loud SSSSSSCCCCRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEE!!!!! I had rubbed the entire side of my white suburban on the bright yellow protective post. I looked at the homeless man with that knowing, "yeah you heard that. Yes, you made me do that. Thanks a lot buddy." When I got to the bottom of the ramp and was able to get out, I had ripped the bumper off my back tire area and bright yellow covered the car. I was so mad at myself. As I came back up the same ramp two hours later, he was still there. I stopped, rolled down the window and said, "Hi. I just want you to know that I was the suburban who hit that post earlier." I don't know, I just wanted him to have to face me for some reason. I continued saying, "It's dangerous for cars to get around you when you stand in the down ramp and I'm frustrated." He then just said, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You are beautiful." I am not kidding! I knew he was just saying that so I would somehow soften up and not be mad. He knew if you tell a woman that, she gets all flustered. I kind of stuttered and said, "Uh, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know." Well, we still haven't fixed it, although Sydney got the car wet and scraped all of the yellow off with her little thumbnails. I was so happy. At least it isn't yellow anymore.

Your honor, may I submit exhibit 1.

There is supposed to be a black rim there.

So yesterday, my son was home sick. He asked me if there was any way I could go get him a movie. I stopped at the bank to cash some checks first. As I am leaving the little drive through lane, you guessed it. SSSSSCCCCCCRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEE! What the heck was that?! I stopped the car and walked around. Yep. A yellow stupid post put there to protect the thing that sucks your money into the bank. This time, not as much yellow on the burb, but more damage. It completely dented my two doors in so that they wouldn't open. Once I somehow punched them open, they wouldn't close again.

Your honor, I will now submit exhibit 2.

It doesn't look too bad there, but for some reason, both doors are totally messed up, out of joint if you will.

Do you know how embarrassing it was to walk in and tell my husband that I, uh, wrecked the car? "How?" he asked. I had to say, "um, another yellow post." How humiliating is that?! I was waiting for him to, rightfully so, yell at me and tell me how much money this would cost to fix and what was I thinking and can't I drive and how long have I had a license and really in a bank drive through and don't you know they always have those yellow posts?! All he did was say quietly, "oh Erin." Well, that's actually worse, because he was nodding his head back and forth and closing his eyes when he said it. Then he sighed, like -what am I supposed to do with you ruining things all of the time. He got up, went out and punched the doors really hard until he got them to open and close to what he says is "good enough."

I'm so mad at myself. I tried to make up for it by making a warm dinner right away and telling myself I won't ever get mad if he accidentally does something that costs us money or worry. I am not going to get upset if a kid spills a bowl of cereal or soup and ruins some important paper on the counter, or any such thing. I'll give everyone a yellow post freebie.

erin noelle, apparently really bad driver