The Drama of the Parking Lot

barry currin, stories of a world gone mad, beaverdamusa.comParking lots are nuts.

I’ll take Atlanta’s I-285 full of crazed lunatics at 5 p.m., on a holiday weekend in the rain any day over a busy parking lot.

I’ve never watched any of those fantasy shows like “Game of Thrones” or “The Hunger Games,” but I have seen the commercials, and from what I can tell, those are based on people’s behavior in a parking lot.

You never know when someone is going to cut through a couple of vacant spaces and cut in front of you.

You never know when an abandoned buggy is going to come gunning for your passenger-side door.

And you certainly never know when someone will back out and not see you.

Before you email me, I’ve been on both sides of all of these situations. Heck, I play the game, too.

I have to.

In the parking lot, you either conquer or you’re vanquished.

Many times, when I do see a vacant spot and put the pedal to the metal to beat my inferior foes to it, the spot turns out to be a buggy return.

The people who make those monkey bars-looking buggy returns must use some kind of secret space-age spy paint that makes them invisible until a car gets within 10 feet. Either that or they pop up out of the ground at the last minute.

And the reserved spots are getting out of hand.

My favorite is the spot that says “Reserved” and nothing else.

One day, I’m just going to assume the spot is reserved for me and slam the car down right smack dab in the middle.

And then there are all these new types of reserved parking spots that will never apply to me.

I’m never going to be an expectant mother or a new mother.

I’m never going to be the employee of the month.

I’m probably never going to be a police officer, though I haven’t totally given up the dream.

But why does a police car need its own spot? If there’s an emergency, the officer is going to park next to the door so he or she can rush inside.

And if this is about picking up a loaf of bread, the officer should probably just find a spot like everybody else.

And now, stores have a half dozen spots reserved for people who ordered their weed whacker online and are driving to the store to pick it up.

Let me get this straight.

The poor old shleps like me who have the audacity to drive down to the store and look at the weed whackers that are already there get penalized in favor of Mr. McCellphone who buys the thing from his tablet while sipping sweet tea in his easy chair?

Similarly at restaurants, anytime you see a couple of vacant spots next to the door, they are reserved for people who called ahead or ordered online and are taking their food to go.

Just once I would love to pull in a parking lot and see a vacant spot right up next to the door that says, “Reserved for some guy who overslept this morning and sure could go for some pizza right now.”

That’s a cause I could embrace.

About Barry Currin

Barry tries to be funny and poignant, and he's usually satisfied when he succeeds with one or the other. (Being both is awesome. And sometimes that happens.) Email him: currin01@gmail.com

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