Some context: I am not handicapped. However, the location (a gas station) is somewhere I go daily (and, that I used to work at a couple years ago), so I know that, despite it being a college town, there are quite a few regulars who are... quite old, and might need the spot. Also all conversations are as best as I can remember it. There was more interactions than just this, but for the most part it was repeating the same beats. Capitalized words are raised voices.  


I am pulling into the gas station behind another car. The car ahead of me was turning, as the only spot left open by the doors was the handicapped parking space (he would go on to park at a pump, as did I. There were still 3 open when I walked inside). However, he was forced to slam on his brakes as a car zipped in front of him and into the handicapped parking space. It wasn't an illegal move, nor was she speeding through the parking lot... but it was definitely rude.  


Whatever. Not a big deal.  


I park at a pump and head inside. While I go in, I notice that the rude car didn't have a handicapped plate. I double checked that she had indeed pulled into the handicapped parking space before peeking into the car to see if there was a hanging handicapped sign on the rear-view mirror (my late grandma would use one when she went places with my mom) and also notice that the girl in the car seems to be a peppy young thing couldn't be older than 30, but was probably in her 20s (I'm a 28 yo man, and she looked young to me). I shake my head at this point, disappointed that someone was taking a spot at a semi-busy gas station for a handicapped person, when it seemed there was nothing wrong with her.   


I figure it's none of my business and head inside. As I reach for the door, I see "Deb" the manager, heading out. I hold the door open for her. We exchanged pleasantries and she went on her way, stating that she was out for the night.  


So, once inside, while I was checking my pockets (I forget my card a lot, so I was making sure I actually had it before I got my purchases). At that point, I felt a pair of spindly arms wrap around me from behind, with painted fingers laced around my chest. The hugger (lets call her Kate, for simplicity) is holding their head against my back. I tense up and state loud enough for the entire store to hear:  


ME: "I don't know who you are. Get the fuck off of me."  


She complies, stating something about how I should smile more. Because I look like I'm always pissed. (more context: I'm generally seen as a pretty happy guy. I talk jovially with the employees and customers alike. I also have a penchant for having full on conversations with people that I meet at this station). I respond:  


ME: "Yeah, normally I get pretty pissed when morons steal handicapped parking spaces."  
KATE: "Are you a cop?"  
ME: "No. I'm just not an asshole."  
KATE: "So, do you see anyone who needs it, huh?"  
ME: "Nope. But that doesn't mean there wont-"  
KATE: "Then whats the problem? There was nowhere else to park!"  
ME: "I can see THREE PARKINGS PLACES out ther-!"  
KATE: "THERE'S NOWHERE TO PARK!" 

ME: "THERE ARE PARKING SPACES, if you aren't a BITCH!"  


At this point, the cashier (let's call her Meg) informs me that if I keep this up, I would be asked to leave. At this point, Kate has a shit-eating grin on her face.  


Obviously, I decide it's not worth being kicked out of a place where I'm known by a first name basis... so I shut my mouth. I get my items, but in the meantime, I hear Kate talking to Meg. She's clearly talking loud enough so I can hear it from where I'm at.  


KATE: "What do you think about all this?"  
MEG: \*incomprehensible from where I was\*  
KATE: "That guy's such a fucking ASSHOLE."  


She brushes past me, with a smug look on her face, after she pays (there was one person in line between us, at this time).  


I figure this is all over. Fine. Whatever.  


But then, as I'm paying, I hear something from the doorway, turning to see that Kate was standing in the open door, letting in all the cold air as she berated me:  


KATE: "You fucking asshole!"  
KATE: "I bet you got a tiny dick!"  
KATE: "You fucking dickless asshole!"  


Etc...  


I pay for my 52 oz soda and start towards the door. I start to walk towards my car, when I have an idea:  


I can either go around the passenger side of her car, or the driver's side. I decide... Driver's side.  


ME: "Excuse me, I need to get to my car."  
KATE: "What?"  
ME: "I'm want to get to my car. And there's no other path to get there."  
KATE: "What's your problem, asshole?"  
ME: "Nothing, just that I have to talk to a stupid cunt."  
KATE: "Oh, yeah, I'm a  cunt. A great big cunt."  
KATE: "I have a great big vagina that just spills out of my pants  
*(at this point, Kate is making hand gestures, showing how big her vagina is, and how it flows from her jeans)*  
ME: "It shows. It REALLY does!"  


I continue to brush past her to get to my car and she leans into me, spilling my soda over both of us, leaving about only half of the soda in the cup, with a crack down one side. At this point, Kate is stunned. She has no words. I continue walking to my car when I hear the guttural yelp of someone desperately throwing something. When the smell of carmel, cream and gas station coffee hits me, I realize that the entire back of my coat is covered in her disgusting half-coffee.  


I turn on my heel, half of a soda still in my hands. I consider myself an expert on aiming drinks, mainly due to the fact that I end up with a lot of half-finished drinks, which I tend to toss in an arc, as opposed to making a big puddle. So, I took aim and returned fire, covering the front of her shirt in even more soda than had been spilled before.  


Soaking wet (and wanting to prove to her that I'm a better person than her) I threw my empty cup away, got in my car, and tried to leave. She was already on my bumper, fumbling with her phone, trying to record me. I yell for her to get out of my way, as I'm trying to leave. I rev my engine, which makes her back off a little, then use the gap to zip past her and around the other side of the pumps and out the exit of the gas station.  


I later learned that she had called the cops on me. That the cops had watched video of the altercation, but nothing else. It's been a week and I have yet to hear from the cops (my plate would have DEFINITELY been on camera, assuming they hadn't moved them since I worked there.), and I was informed by Deb, the manager from before, that none of the cops were told my name. And when I relayed the full story, Deb was trying hard to hold back a laugh.  


I later learned that I had distressed Meg with the confrontation in the store, as she wasn't sure how to handle the situation. She was alone at the store, at the time, and both of us (apparently) were regulars. It had apparently caused her to break down a bit, as I was informed that after the incident, Meg was in tears.  


So, I ask: Am I the Asshole?