Thursday, November 17, 2005

No, no, the OTHER "right"!

Finally it was time for the personal safety part of the course, and an actual physical demonstration. Richard led us into the BMW showroom, and asked for a volunteer. Of course, no one volunteered, but that’s life all over, eh? So he pointed to a pretty blonde girl, and asked her to get into the X5. She buckled up, shut the door.

He turned to a young guy, and handed him a gun.

(Oh fer Pete’s sake, y’all, not a REAL gun! It looked like one, though. Not a plastic water pistol....)

“Ok, hold up the car! You’re the hijacker. Point the gun at her and tell her to get out.”

The guy halfheartedly waved the gun toward the girl in the car. Obviously his skill-set was in something other than highway robbery. Hell, what ARE they teaching kids these days?

Blonde Girl, a bit embarrassed, reached down to unbuckle her seat belt.

“No no no! Stop!” Richard opened the door of the car. “You mustn’t do it that way, dropping down or making fast movements. This is how you do it. One. You hold up your hands. Two. You very obviously cross your right hand ACROSS your body to unbuckle your seat belt.” [Americans: cars in South Africa, as in England, are right-hand drive, so all the ‘lefts’ and ‘rights’ are opposite what they’d be for you.] “And then, three, you unlock all the car doors with the central unlocking button.”

“Let’s try it again. Hands up.... Cross with right hand..... Unlock..... No no NO! Your RIGHT hand!”

Oh oh! Blonde Girl, like me, had left/right impairment issues. Guess we both missed boot camp.

“Let’s do it again. Hands up. Cross with right hand. NO, RIGHT HAND! RIGHT! Hoo boy, any of you ladies know your right from your left hand?” We all shook our heads and hung our heads in shame.

“You don’t want to use your left hand to unbuckle, because then your right hand stays down at your side, and it could look to a hijacker like you were reaching into the door pocket to get your gun.”

Your GUN! Yeah, your gun! And I thought that was only in New Jersey that people had guns in their door pockets. Like in The Godfather, or The Sopranos.

Man, I just usually have a map and reading glasses. “Here, you vile car thief! Let me beat you nearly to death with my Surrey book of maps and then poke your eyes out with the pointy ends of my reading glasses! Then for good measure, I’ll garrote you with the curly-cord of my phone charger. Yeah, take that! Maybe even pistol-whip you with the latch end of my dog’s spare leash and.. and... and then I’ll spray some Holt’s De-Icer into your eyes for good measure!!!!”

Ooooh, I’m getting carried away! I haven’t felt this vicious since the kids were small.

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