Wednesday, August 23, 2006

It's poison bile cocktail hour! Drink up, mates!

I'm really trying to be Miss Congeniality in my daily life, but as soon as things seem to be going well, some bastard screws it all up and makes me cranky. So if you're not up for me being self-righteously annoyed right now, perhaps you should go here instead. So anyway, I really didn't feel like going anywhere tonight because I'm a bit run down, but I needed to make a library run and I figured I'd pick up a couple of things to make banana bread. (Sneaky Mr. Pants has been purchasing massive quantities of bananas, knowing that sooner or later some of them would get overripe and I'd make them into bread.)

I should have taken my bicycle, I know, but as I mentioned I was feeling a bit run down and that makes for less-than-joyous bicycling. At any rate, the nearest grocery store happens to be Industrial Organics 'R' Us, and as we all know, their parking lots are always horrible (perhaps a passive-aggressive corporate policy to encourage bicycling?) Now that the students are back in town, the lot is especially heinous, and I was prepared to burn a lot of fossil fuels in pursuit of my organic nutmeg and raisins. But hark, I quickly spied a little spot next to a badly parked SUV and I decided to make it mine. I was on one of the "straightaway" parts of the parking lot, and as such I felt I had right-of-way over any cars turning in from the "aisles"--who are supposed to stop, if one applies regular road-rules (I don't think there is actual traffic law covering parking lots--is there?). There were no other cars in my section of "straightaway," so I knew I had no competition for said spot until out of the blue a couple in a car coming down an aisle decided that their desire to beat me to the parking space superseded my (common-law?) right-of-way, and they attempted to speed out in front of me and take the spot. They didn't realize that I don't give a crap about beating up my car. I'm not stopping. I didn't stop. They stopped ... and OK, then I actually did stop long enough to give them an "Are you f-ing nuts?" look before pulling into my (very narrow because of the stupid badly parked SUV ... are there any other kind?) parking spot.

So I get out and the couple had stopped behind me and rolled down their windows. They were pudgy, 50-ish, and looked like maybe they had once lived on a commune but were now embracing the bougie lifestyle. The woman who was driving said something whiny about how they wanted that parking spot ... no shit, I'm thinking, you tried to run me over for it. So I said "Look, I had the right-of-way." So then the guy in the passenger seat said, in a pudgy middle-aged asshole kind of way, "Yeah, that's right, you're so special" and then rolled up the window as the woman speeded off. Special? I was on the parking lot equivalent of a main road, and you were on the parking lot equivalent of an alley or a driveway. I don't care if there are no actual parking lot road rules, you are supposed to stop. And yeah, I got my parking spot so I guess I'm a little more special than you. Ha!

I'll be all sweetness and light tomorrow. Or the next day ... sometime this week, at any rate.


georg said...

I think it's a tossup whether Raleigh or Durham has worst parking of the 4. I'd say Durham, but maybe that's only cos I rarely go to the Raleigh store. I have, on more than one occasion, left the Derm store and driven all the way to Chapel Hill cos I couldn't find a place to park. CH has parking lot flow designed by psychopaths but there's actually a pretty decent amount of space, esp. if you're willing to walk a bit. Cary (probably because it's a former HT) has an embarrasment o' parking. But who wants to drive all the way to Cary just to shop?

elsacapuntas said...

ms. pants, all crankiness is completely excused as we deal with This Difficult Time (aka, the return of the evil students. e-ville, like the frew-its of the de-ville.)

that, combined with self-righteous, self-important ex-hippies and that e-ville parking lot...damn, i would have been out of the car rolling up my sleeves.