Life abounds with small inconveniences, but there’s usually a bright side. Last Sunday I was on a plane waiting to leap into the sky, and a passenger felt ill and wanted to get off. Back to the gate. The times being what they are — tense, insane — everyone was thinking that the passenger had left a bomb in the hold, so when the pilot said we’d all have to get off and wait for the plane to be searched, everyone was glad.

Bomb-sniffing dogs were brought in. TSA agents walked around muttering cryptic codes into walkie-talkies. After two hours we took off, and while everyone’s plans had been utterly rubbished, at least we knew the plane had no bomb. How often can you say that with any certainty? Bright side!

Another incident: Friday I pulled up to a parking spot just as someone was walking into the space between the parked cars. She stood there, on the phone. I beeped, because I didn’t want to back up and run her over. A courtesy thing. It’s just part of my personal code. She didn’t notice, because she was on the phone; people on the phone would not notice if there was a unicorn next to them singing show tunes. I beeped again, setting my palm to “justified irritation” strength, and this time she turned around.

This is taken, she yelled. She was saving the space for someone.

I said “no, you can’t,” in that strange half-voice mouthing-the-words sound you make when talking through glass. She said something salty and went back to the phone, presumably to tell the arriving driver that the space had been secured against invaders.

You have two options: Back in verrrrry slowly, edging out the camper. Or vroom away in a huff of contempt, thinking “I hope my acceleration indicated my level of displeasure, and makes her reconsider her life choices.”

We’re agreed that this was wrong, right? I just can’t figure out why. You can save a space in line for a friend. You can save a theater seat. Why not a parking space? The answer’s obvious: BECAUSE I WANTED IT. Also because it’s just wrong.

Bright side? Got a closer spot for cheaper. So if you’re reading this, lady, thank you! Also, you’re horrible.