Why I'm not married

. . .to an asshole. Last night while (not quite) minding my business* and waiting for a ride at the train station, I saw this lady picking up who I would assume is her husband. I should first note that he had "First Class Undisputed Douchebag" written all over him. Don't ask me to explain, just something about his face and demeanor annoyed me as the two of us waited. Well, his wife pulled up to the Kiss & Ride area and stopped the car. SHOULD be end of story right. Wrong. Since the car door was not perfectly aligned with where he was standing, he tapped the car, snapped his fingers and pointed to the exact spot that he wanted the car to be so that he would not have to walk the extra two steps. I was staring in amazement. What part of the game is THAT? *sigh*