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The Zipper Incident
wrote this passenger log in my native language and then used GPT to translate it into English, hoping it’s not too bad.
Wentworth Point is filled with tall buildings, yet the streets are narrow. I was waiting in the middle of the street for a passenger, and when a car came, I immediately found a parking entrance and backed up to park near the exit, continuing to wait. I was eagerly hoping the passenger would arrive soon, while also wishing no cars would enter or exit the parking lot at that moment.
However, things often don’t go as we wish —— a black car was slowly coming out of the underground parking. I sighed with disappointment internally and felt a bit frustrated at the passenger’s delay, but my body didn’t have time to express these emotions. I had to react immediately and move, or else I might get honked at. As I moved, I caught a glimpse of a lady walking towards me with her head down. I hesitated for a moment and then drove away, thinking she wasn’t my passenger since she hadn’t looked around.
Yesterday, because I was blocking the road, a van driver mocked me. A college student wanted to listen to his own music on the way to school, but the Bluetooth in my car kept malfunctioning, so we both focused on trying to fix it. I thought I heard a horn, but I was parked temporarily next to a parking lot, not at the entrance or exit, so I thought it was safe and assumed it wasn’t directed at me. I didn’t even look up and continued troubleshooting with him. Shortly after, someone knocked on my window and gave me a wide-eyed look with a complex yet humorous expression. He spread his hands, pointed at me, then pointed at his own eyes, and finally at his van, indicating how was he supposed to get out? He pointed at his ears, spread his hands again, and did a comical half-squat, as if enjoying a live concert and dancing happily like my son does with his simple yet clumsy dance moves.
I quickly waved to him and drove away with a big sorry ang laughing. His way of reminding me was brilliant —— expressing dissatisfaction while being very funny and humorous. The result was that I felt embarrassed but not offended, and he got to stretch his legs after getting out of the car, probably feeling better too. Compared to constant honking, his way of reminding was indeed much better! Hmm, maybe he was curious and wanted to see what I was doing in the car?
Since I had been mocked yesterday, I couldn’t let anyone honk at me today. I immediately drove into the street, squeezed closely next to another car, and as soon as that car passed, the lady opened the door and got in. It turned out she was my passenger! Why didn’t she signal to me? She was almost in front of me earlier. Flashing the hazard lights is a matter of seconds, and the driver behind usually wouldn’t mind.
I apologized and said I didn’t realize she was my passenger. She said it was okay. We drove all the way to her destination. Here’s the interesting part —— she was going to the Department of Home Affairs in Parramatta, on George Street. Coincidentally, the student from yesterday got in near that intersection, and my Australian citizenship test and interview were also held there. Usually, at this time in the morning, there’s a queue waiting to get in. Today was no exception. People quietly stood in line holding their documents, and I parked in the middle of the waiting queue. I turned back and said have a good one to her; she said thank you. Based on nearly ten years of driving experience, when a passenger gets off, I always look back to ensure they exit safely, mainly to check three things:
- Did the passenger leave the seatbelt buckle stuck in the door? (Even so, there’s already a deep scratch on the left rear door edge.)
- Did the passenger leave anything behind?
- Did the passenger dirty the carpet or seats?
Habit is second nature, and this time was no exception. When I looked back, she was just stepping out, and as she leaned forward to stand up, I caught a glimpse of her lower body. She was wearing jeans, and the brass zipper was completely open, forming a crooked V shape along the jeans side. It happened quickly, and before I could think, she had already gotten out and closed the door. I continued my routine check. After finishing, I watched her walk towards the end of the queue with her fly open and started questioning myself—should I have told her?
But should I? Would it have made her and me feel awkward? Could she even report me about it? Forgetting to zip up is quite a common occurrence, isn’t it? I often forget myself. Sometimes it’s because the zipper is faulty and loosens after sitting for a while. When I go to the bathroom and find it’s not zipped properly, I panic and try to recall who I saw earlier, blushing at the thought. Would this lady, after her interview and when she went to the restroom, also feel a chill down her spine thinking about when it started and who might have seen it, blushing like me? Thinking of this, I felt an obligation to remind her.
I remembered a teacher from when I first started middle school who often forgot to zip his fly. I can’t recall his lectures but vaguely remember glimpses of red underwear and his unkempt stubble. If I had told him, would he have thanked me or scolded me for not paying attention in class, asking why my eyes weren’t on the blackboard instead of looking where they shouldn’t? Indeed, I didn’t dare tell the teacher, nor did I tell the lady, just as my passengers probably wouldn’t say anything either.
When I first started driving, I didn’t have the habit of checking after passengers got out. Once, after a couple of young people left the car, I noticed a white, creamy substance on the carpet. No wonder they had seemed odd getting into the car and were awkward throughout the trip while I remained unaware. Later, I thought they were probably a married couple, with the wife heavily pregnant and possibly leaving that behind. I was sure I got a low rating that day, but I’m still unsure who left it. If it wasn’t those young people and they had reminded me, at least I could have apologized to them, sparing me the uncertainty. And if it was the pregnant woman, had she told me immediately, would I be angry or thankful? Regardless, I hope whoever it is would tell me immediately; that’s best. But why didn’t I tell that lady immediately? It’s because such doubts are painful, and over time, I developed the habit of checking the back seat.
Another time, I parked under a tree for a long time and had two passengers in succession. Neither of them told me about the huge bird droppings on the door. It wasn’t until we reached the airport and I helped a passenger with luggage that I noticed it on the left rear door, near the handle. I wondered why the wind hadn’t blown it away on the highway. The white liquid had just spread out, making the area look larger, and the black speckled center was very noticeable. Surely, they saw it but pretended not to, just like I didn’t tell my teacher or that lady.
After she got off, I found a place to turn around and then made a left onto Charles St, going to where the student got on yesterday. I stopped near the Wilson Parking entrance to see if yesterday’s experienced driver would appear today. If he saw me parked there again, would he dance his wobbly dance for me again? If he had encountered today’s lady, he would definitely have a witty way to remind her, right? Humorously reminding her without offending her —— this ability I truly lack! So I could only remain silent, feeling a sense of responsibility afterward for not reminding her in time. It’s not just about the open zipper; I feel like I lack emotional intelligence, humor, and wisdom in many areas of my life.
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1 Reply
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Aww, your words make me sad, and I feel sorry for the five minutes you lost too.
You can skip my next post anytime you like, but you can never save 5 minutes for… Haha, I think I might have copied someone’s sentence.
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