Eric Thompson: Leaders, followers, and others

Some Auckland drivers insist they can easily park in tight spaces. Photo / Steven McNicholl

Opinion

I have come to the conclusion that we humans have more in common with lemmings than we do with our cousins the apes.

I swear if I ran through a crowd of people on my way to cliff edge, at least a dozen would follow, and half of those would also jump off the cliff.

Have you noticed when parking in an empty car park, that the very next car to arrive makes a beeline towards where you are and pulls up right next you. And parks so close that opening a door is nigh on impossible.

Or, you arrive early somewhere and take a seat that hopefully is a little way away from the madding crowd. And low and behold, the family with the dysfunctional children walk past 20 empty rows and plonk themselves right next to you. Talk about fatal attraction - if that happens to me once more there will be a fatality.

How about this one - you're out to dinner for the first time in months with your beloved in a near empty restaurant, enjoying the peace and quiet, being able to have a conversation without having to shout over 100 other voices and what happens. A warring couple are placed on the next-door table and they spend the evening either hissing at each other, or sitting there in sullen silence.

And a suggestion for followers of fashion, a least a lemming only makes a mistake once; they're not repeat offenders.

On the other hand you have those who couldn't give a tinker's curse what the rest of the world thinks.

I had the misfortune a while ago of having to cross the Auckland harbour bridge and enter the dark side of our fair, now super, city. You see, to me going south of the bridge is like entering Rod Serling's Twilight Zone and yet again I was not to be disappointed.

I had to attend a meeting of PR people in regards to a couple of stories I might be writing. Needless to say, we had to meet at a restaurant/bar in Ponsonby, or was it Parnell?

I had just parked my car and was checking there was enough room for the vehicle in front to get out when I heard a woman talking to me.

I turned around and this apparition wearing God knows what was approaching screeching like a shrew not to worry as she was used to driving in Auckland and getting in and out of tight places. I thought okay and got out of the car.

I had only gone a few paces when I realised I'd left my notes in the car so I went to passenger side of the car. As I was about to put the key in the door I heard the woman start the Mini, rev it up and bang it into gear. She popped the clutch and promptly reversed straight into the front of my car, which moved about half a foot backwards so I missed putting the key in the keyhole.

She opened her door, leaned out and asked what happened. By this stage my jaw was on the pavement but I managed to stammer that she had just reversed into my car. I then asked her if she used her mirrors for anything other than lipstick and eyeliner and what was her problem.

Ignoring the question she asked if there was any damage, "not much really I said", at which point she said my car was a pile of rubbish anyway so it didn't matter, slammed her door shut and promptly drove off. I was too gob-smacked to get the number plate.