Driving to a restaurant for dinner, on a rainy evening, on a street that we are unfamiliar with.

         

  "Slow down, I can't read the addresses."

            "That bitch is still on my ass, I can't slow down."

            "Yes you can, just hit the brakes, the car behind you will slow down. What was that address again?"

            "218."

            "218? You said 217 before. Goddamnit, that address is on the other side of the street. Turn around, go back."

            "I can't. She's still on my ass."

Mark does not know if the driver tailgating him is a woman or not. He just calls every other driver she. I think it's from hanging around too many drag queens.

            "Don't pay any attention to the car behind you. Just go around the goddamned block and....   where the hell are you going. Oh my god, you're making me sick."

At this point Mark is in a traffic circle, and it feels like I'm on a merry-go-round being run by a drunken carney.

            "210, 176...  The numbers are going down. You went too far."

Again, Mark hits the traffic circle, albeit this time at a snail's pace.

            "I can't see, it's dark, it's raining, and the street isn't...    "

            "Get in the right lane, get over in the goddamned right lane! No, that's the left turn lane. Right, turn right!"

Mark is now scream/crying.

            "Stop yelling at me. I can't see the marks on the street."

We make another pass down the street.

            "There it is. Slow down."

Mark keeps driving.

            "You passed it, goddamnit you passed it again. Just find a place to park and stop the car."

After a few more trips around the block, Mark finds a parking spot in the alley behind the restaurant. This is a normal trip for us, this is how it is every time. I have no idea how Mark gets to where he's going when I'm not in the car. What I do know, is that after Mark parked the car, I re-parked it correctly between the lines. Bon appetit!