Tagebuch: November 2006

Dear Diary,

Driving with my boyfriend is always an experience.  When it comes to traffic, stoplights or incompetent drivers, he doesn’t hesitate to let his feelings show – and I mean show. Exclamations of annoyance, long sighs, click of the tongue and the occasional expletive flower his repertoire.

As we round the corner of the Laimgrubengasse, onto Gumpendorferstrasse, we come to an immediate halt. In front of us, a Mercedes SLK is desperately trying to fit into a parking space made for a mini.

Bumping the VW in front and the Renault in back, the car slowly squeezes its way into the gap, scraping curb and trash can in the process. A line of cars begins to build up, perhaps two blocks long before my boyfriend cries, "Hey lady, learn how to drive before you buy a car like that."

Finally the Mercedes seemed to have found its final resting place.

"Woman drivers," my boyfriend sighed.

As we drove past, the driver of the car was assembling his dry cleaning and briefcase – a man in his mid-thirties. I smiled. Isn’t it disappointing to have no cliché to hang on to?