Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Parking Lot Woes

Ok, what is it with me and parking lots? Yesterday, I had to go visit a client in BF, Oregon. This meant that I was driving into the office afterward. Normally not a problem. I go to the client's house (which is about 40 miles South of here), meet with him, take some pictures and make my way back to the office. Working downtown means you pretty much park only one place after 10:00 a.m. - a parking garage.

Sounds simple enough, right? Well, not for me. I should say not for my Suburban. Yes, this is not the most parking garage-friendly vehicle in the universe. All of us that have been in a parking garage before know that the spots are slightly bigger than a Yugo, allowing for maximum monetary rapeage of the fellow consumer. So, I'm driving and find my spot, next to a concrete column (meaning that there will only potentially be 1 car that can cause damage to my vehicle instead of 2). So, I pull in there and call it good.

Fast-forward to 4:30. I have a softball game at 6:30, but I have to go all the way home, change, pick up the kids and high-tail it back to the field (which is only about 10 minutes away from my office - total opposite direction from my house). I walk my happy little ass to my vehicle to find that some total arsewipe has parked his Toyota Tacoma about 6" from my oversized vehicle. I also look behind me to find that there's another concrete post, along with 2 cars that won't allow me enough room to back out. Seriously, I was stuck. I tried everything short of "moving" the Tacoma out of my way. I pulled forward, backward, side-ward, nothing worked. All I managed to do was wedge myself in tighter and tighter. So, what could I do but wait for one of the 4 cars owners around me to come and pull out, allowing me enough wiggle room to get my vehicle un-wedged. So I wait….and wait….AND FUCKING WAIT!! The minutes are ticking off….10, 15, 20. When it gets to 30, I decide to head down to talk to the attendants to see if maybe someone could help direct me out of the spot.

As I get to the elevator, I notice some skinny little dude (and when I say little, I mean this guy is like 5'7" 135 lbs) making a beeline for the Tacoma. So, I hustle back to my rig, figuring I'll be out in the next 30 seconds. I go over to watch this guy get in his truck. Amazingly, he's so skinny that he can open the door and wriggle into his truck without touching the side of my Suburban. So, I go to the driver's side, get in and start it up…and then….proceed to wait some more. Dude got in his truck, rolled down his window and proceeded to make a phone call. You're fucking kidding me, right? A phone call? Ok, enough is enough. I roll down my passenger window (which means the guy is about 4 feet from me) and say to him "Excuse me. Um, excuse me, sir." Then something amazing happens…..the dude "shoos" me away with the wave of his hand. I mean dismisses me like I'm one of his loyal subjects or some shit like that.

Well, by this time I'd had about 10 times the normal amount of undue stress that I usually can handle, so I get out of my vehicle, wander to the front of it, so he can see me and I say "You didn't just SHOO me, did you? Please tell me you didn't just shoo me."

Well, skinny mini hangs up his phone, sizes me up and says, "If I did, I didn't mean to."

I said, "I've been here 30 minutes waiting for someone to come so I can get out of this spot, since you decided to park so damn close to me. You're lucky I didn't push it out of the way."

"That's what you get for driving such a big vehicle. And besides, I've only been away from my vehicle for 15 minutes."

Any other day and I yank this dolt out of his car and wax my hood with him. However, I'm in a hurry (really don't have time for a trip to the pokey, either). So, in my nicest tone, I say, "I don’t care how long you've been gone, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you move your car so I can get to where I need to be on time. If you need to make a phone call, how bout you just let me pull out and you pull into another spot. Thanks in advance." I also lay on my dazzling smile as a sort of a peace offering.

No further words are exchanged, dude backs out and leaves, allowing me to do the same. Fucking A.

I did make it to my game with 15 minutes to spare (which means I didn't really have time to warm up, but oh well), but I was frazzled beyond repair. I did, however, take out some of my frustrations on the ball. I went 3-4 with 2 HRs and a triple. The one out I made was a scorcher that caught the secondbaseman. Maybe I should stress before every game.

Is it too early for a drink?

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