The parking lot where Michael’s, King Kullen supermarket and Marshall’s converge is a frenzy of discount shopping, food and insufficient parking. You easily need to factor in 15 minutes circling time before you might be lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time when those reverse headlights flare. And you’d better hope you’re not near a revving Lexus who’s in the mood for chicken.
Today I considered myself lucky when it only took four laps of musical cars before I scored a spot at the far end of the lot. Then, having completed my extremely necessary mission to Michael’s for candy eyes for cupcakes, I head back toward my car, placing bets on which lucky lapper will win my coveted spot when I realize there’s a BMW parked illegally behind my car, making it virtually impossible for me to get out.
I’m mentally configuring the odds of a 456 point turn when a blonde woman with giant sunglasses steps from the vehicle. “Um, you know that’s not a spot,” I say but her head is too far up her ass to hear me so she just slings her Gucci bag over her shoulder and slams the door shut.
“Excuse me!” I say louder, “You can’t park there.”
She hears me now but I gather by the way she completely ignores me that she doesn’t want to acknowledge my existence and is about to stomp off in shoes that I would only fall off.
“How bout I back up into your car? I suggest with just a hint of confrontation.
That gets her attention but like the passive aggressive bitch she is, she just smiles and says, “Oh, you’re leaving. Great, I’ll take your spot.”
I don’t want to give her my spot. I want to back my beat up minivan right into her sleek silver driving machine. I want to crush the life out if. I wouldn’t even mind spending the rest of my life driving a car with a crumpled behind. It’s not like I don’t walk around with one of my own.
But that’s not nice manners or legal, so I get into my car, back up and leave. So unceremonious. So unsatisfying. So wimpy. I felt efeminated. I had been schooled by a bitch with a BMW and a good blow out.
I fume the whole way back to town up until I pull into the school to pick up my boys. As I am about to swing into a spot, I see a car opposite me angling to do the same. Ah, redemption! I will own that spot; a little turbo boost to my wounded ego.
But still I hesitate before I hit the gas, and in that second, the car across from me pulls in.
Argh! Foiled again!
Frustrated I drive on and find a spot, really only about 10 feet away, but that’s not the point.
Walking to the school, I see the person emerge from the vehicle who just stole my spot with my pathetic show weakness. Turns out to be my friend. We both brighten. She knows nothing of our parking duel to the death and how she bested me.
“Hey, I got you something,” She says, and knowing my affinity for all things sweet, pulls a pack of jellybeans from her bag.
I take them and smile. The Universe has soothed me. Apparently sometimes patience is rewarded.
But I still hope that chic from Michael’s gets her just desserts.