Recently at lunch, I was walking back to the Bandit from a restaurant. A guy in a lifted F-150 pulls up next to me before I get on the bike and asks if I'm about to leave. The parking lot is pretty small for this place, and crowded during lunch. I respond in the affirmative. He turns to his passenger and says, purposefully loud enough for me to hear, "I hate how all these m*f'n motorcyclists think they own the roads, now they're even taking up our f*n parking spaces."
I yell over, "Where else to you expect me to park?! They don't have designated motorcycle spots here." "Well, you coulda parked on the f*n sidewalk!"
Not wanting to continue the downward-spiralling exchange, I resumed my leaving of the lot: I put on my helmet and gloves, started the bike, decided now was a good time to organize the trunk, shut the bike off, took off my helmet and gloves, messed around in the Givi case a bit, re-dressed, started the bike, decided to listen to some tunes, so took the helmet off, pulled out my phone, checked my email, looked for some music, put in my earphones, helmet back on, and slowly continue on my way. All told, probably added only 3 minutes to my departure, but 3 minutes is an awful long time to be an angry redneck waiting on a parking spot.