I may get hate mail from every feminist out there, but I gotta say it...
Someone called me "Honey" yesterday and it made my day.
I know, men are NOT supposed to call women that anymore.
And they shouldn't in that butt-pinching, get me some coffee, kind of way. I get that.
So why was it ok yesterday?
My car died.
On a busy main street in a town where you will see just as many little old ladies driving in their Sunday best as you will rednecks with their confederate flag emblazoned pick up trucks.
It died suddenly, and when I say died, I mean, everything stopped.
I was just glad the flashers still worked.
I ended up in the entrance driveway to a KFC.
Yes, a KFC.
Which is apparently when all the elderly of this small town go to eat their fried bits of fake chicken.
These aged folks are apparently very, VERY passionate about their fried chicken, as I was met with honks,balled up fists, and glares that would melt the polar ice caps.
Because I was sorta' blocking the entrance to KFC.
And the other entrance is, no joke... 6 feet away.
Folks, if you can carry your oxygen tank in to eat KFC, you can drive an additional six feet to get into the parking lot.
Not one of these "saints" asked if we needed help.
I was freaking out a little because my husband was three hours away.
Thankfully my brother in law, Marc, was coming to my rescue, and a young man finally helped me move my car to a parking spot.
When I had to call the tow truck company, I was more calm, but when I told the man where my car had landed, and that people were not exactly happy about it he said this,
"It's ok honey. We will be there within an hour. We will get your car to the garage, they will fix it. Do you need anything else sweetie? I promise, it will get taken care of for you."
I just felt myself relax.
This nice man, who has been towing vehicles longer than I have been alive, could sense my distress, and talked to me in this way, to be nice. Not to insult me. I know the difference, and believe you me, I can go "yankee" on someone in a skinny minute if need be.
But yesterday, I needed someone to be nice to me.
To be human.
To hear that I was stressed and needed some help.
To call me honey, like he probably would his own daughter.
Sometimes, it is not an insult folks.
Sometimes, it is just being nice...