Road Rage?

Biker Boy's sister, brother-in-law, and parents came to visit yesterday. It was a beautiful day. Seriously. It was above 30 degrees. The sun was out. The snow was melting. This was great fun (if you discount that I had the dream where Biker Boy dies and I'm in the back of the church at the funeral again last night after they had left*) and we got to show the future in-laws where the wedding will be (three months from today, baby!) and where the hotel was and how awesome our apartment is with the crazy spider plant that has suddenly exploded to become the size of our dining room table and they even got to hear opera guy singing next door. Hello, run-on sentence! And we got to eat out at a nice steakhouse and someone other than us paid the bill!

As we were all getting out of the giant Chevy Suburban that Biker Boy's dad drives across the street from our apartment building, we noticed that there was a vehicle idling (illegally, I might add) at the curb. Since the car was blocking the little walkway that was shoveled for people to get to the sidewalk from the road and the rest of the curb was piled high with snow, I pounded on the hood of the car and gestured for the car to move back, shouting through the window that the driver should move the car. There was no way for us to get to the sidewalk with the car there. The driver rolled down her window and said, in a bitchy voice, "maybe if you said please, I would move." I stared her down and pointed at the no parking sign directly in front of her myopic, idiotic face. Biker Boy and his family looked on, aghast. The car moved and not a please was spoken.

Is it road rage when you're not actually in a car?

*This is a recurring dream I have. I'm a little nervous that Biker Boy will die. And that his family hates me. I have nothing to support either of these fears, but, you know, I'm crazy like that.