Prelude to The Parking Chronicles

Parking is a weighty issue for me. Other people focus their energies on their children, homes, jobs. I spend my life looping around my block in search of a decent space, obsessing over the inevitable parking crisis that will befall me after dinner. And tomorrow. And the day after that. Because it will. It’s been proven more times than I can count.

You, gentle reader, are to bear witness to my pain.

I’d start with the fact that handicapped spots eat up half my neighborhood, but that would make me look like I hate handicapped people. I don’t; but if I did, I’d keep it to myself until my writing career was established and I could make it sound cute or chic. That said, I have wondered if I could improve my parking situation by lacerating a toe, ingesting strychnine or donating a kidney. I’d like to hope so, but friends and family are not supportive. They’ve commented, in vague terms, that I’m already handicapped. I’m not sure what they mean, and they refuse to explain.

I live on a steep hill where 87% of the residents are in vegetative, yet somehow vehicle-worthy, states. The rest of us vie for the few remaining spots within a block and a half of our building. Though I’m compelled to exclaim, “But…my apartment is so cute!” I must add that there are steps leading to my building, the front door lock requires special tricks of hand, and the elevator gate frightens the weak of bowel. Why, one must wonder, would a handicapped person choose to live here? Why, one might ask, do I?  

As I said, my apartment is so cute!

In the parking world, it’s amazing how such adorableness can give way to such ugliness and guile.

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13 thoughts on “Prelude to The Parking Chronicles

  1. Bless your heart, where do you live? I remember living in NYC, and parking the car meant having to drive around and around searching for the elusive parking place, which was often several blocks, which translated into miles, from our apartment. Now that I’m back in Alabama, parking at home means pulling into the yard!

    1. Ramey, isn’t it funny how people with parking problems have a swift and automatic bond? Someone can tell me their mother just died and I’ll feel bad. But if someone tells me they have parking issues, my heart bleeds for them. Next to your situation in New York, my life is a cakewalk. Still, what I wouldn’t do for a driveway!

  2. Living in the souless subdivisions of Central Florida, we don’t experience the same parking anxiety you do. But, having lived in Seattle and spent time at my brother’s place in Philly, I can imagine and understand the temptation to lose an appendage in exchange for better parking.

    (So glad you came by my blog, so I could find yours. You are too funny. Posterior pustules and all.)

    1. In my opinion, where parking is concerned, appendages are overrated. But of greater importance, I’m so excited that you subscribed to my blog! You’re the first who did so voluntarily, completely of your own volition. I can’t tell you how excited I am. And how eager I am to read more of your posts.

  3. Never go to England Ramey, the parking there is appalling! Business people cannot even unload their trucks at their places of business without getting a fine. Between the one way streets, hooliganism and the lack of parking spaces it is much less frustrating to take a bus or tram.

  4. Girl, you have me chuckling out loud, as usual! OMG, can I relate to this post. Not because I’m driving around the block, but because every afternoon when I walk Roxy I witness frustrated, angry drivers circling the block looking for a space. I don’t think I need to tell you the amount of expletives I hear on a daily basis. So I feel you, sister. Just keep repeating, “My apartment is so cute, mantra-like, as you circle the block for the hundredth time.” It just might help! 🙂

    1. Always the optimist, Bella, even as you walk Roxy in a cloud of foul language. When I came home tonight, there was a parking scuffle going on. “Cute,” I told myself. “Remember, your aprtment is cute. I’m sure Bella would think so too.” And so begins another day. Thanks for letting me know I’m not the only crazed, space-seeking lunatic out there.

  5. Parking can be the bane of the existence of many an urban or semi-urban dweller. I live in a complex where parking for residents is at a premium. Luckily, I have a garage that fits my car but my son must fend for himself to find a spot within a half-mile radius. Sounds like you have a similar predicament. I feel your pain.

    1. Wow, sounds like your son has it worse than I do. (I hate admitting that anyone has it worse than I do. About anything. Ever). I sympathize. And I’ll try to keep my garage envy under control.

  6. June, did you see the story on the front page of today’s New York Times about parking in San Francisco? It seems that people who own wireless Verizon Blackberry devices can access an application that tells them where open parking spaces are located.

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