Thursday, April 30, 2009

Parking Lot Rage

I have practically eliminated my Target runs since the layoff, but when my husband informed me that he was out of contact lens solution, I took it as an invitation to visit the Mother Ship. For weeks my grey hairs had been screaming at me each time I glanced in the mirror. That's not an easy thing to do, as they literally stick straight up. It's bad enough that they are a different color than the rest of my locks, but to add insult to injury they take on a thick wiry texture quite different from my otherwise soft, dark, brown hair. They stand on end as if they are screaming, "UM, HELLO? LOOK AT ME! DO YOU NOT HEAR L'OREAL CALLING MY NAME? GO TO TARGET AND GET SOMETHING TO COVER ME UP AND RESTORE MY LUSTER!"

Happy to report that I was in and out of Target in under 20 minutes. And I didn't stray from my list. Not even once. That's a feat in and of itself, and yes, I should be commended for it. So I'm walking back to my car when this very large white vehicle - don't press me for the make and model as I am so not a make and model kind of gal; I drive a tan minivan, clearly I am not impressed by, nor do I care about cars. But this big, in fact, HUGE, white vehicle pulls in front of me and stops. I thought it was somebody I knew because the driver came to an abrupt stop as if she wanted to speak to me. But instead, she proceeded to try and turn the rig around. Mind you, huge vehicles don't turn on a dime very easily, much less in a tight Target parking garage, but this driver was determined. And so I stepped out of her way and left her to her 13 point turn and proceeded down the aisle looking for my car.

I noticed that she had one of those annoying oval stickers on the back of her car that notifies all drivers where she sends her kids to school. I know I'll probably offend many of you...but I abhor those euro-cool stickers. I don't care if the sticker has the abbreviation for your kids school or where your beach home is located or which mountain top your second home is situated...I am not a fan of those little, oval stickers. I know, I know, we all have our pet peeves (and I'm sure I have more than the average Joe) and the oval sticker in mine. This particular sticker told me that the driver of the HUGE white vehicle sends her kids to the same school as mine.

Ok, so back to the story...

Now, when I say I have no memory - I mean - NO memory. Nada. I don't remember driving to Target, much less where I parked my car. So I'm meandering, looking back and forth for my car and I'm pressing the keyless entry thing-a-ma-jig trying to get my horn to beep in an attempt to hear my car before I see it...but...I get nothing. No horn, no car, no nothing. And the whole time, the HUGE, white vehicle is still behind me, creeping along at a snail's pace right behind me. Clearly, she wants my space and I'm feeling the pressure to locate the car immediately, if not sooner.

That's when it dawns on me that I didn't drive my tan minivan, I drove my husband's car (also free of little oval stickers). That explains why the key fob (is that what you call it?) isn't activating my minivan's horn...the minivan is a good 5 miles away. And then I spot the car a row over, so I veer off in between two parked cars in the general direction of my wheels in the next row. And that's when all hell breaks loose. The lady driving the HUGE white vehicle GOES BALLISTIC. She is FURIOUS that I am not parked in the aisle that she has been stalking me in and so she leans on her horn and pulls her arms up and practically jabs her shoulders into her ears while contorting her face as if to say, "What the heck, lady? I have been tracking your big ole butt so that I can have your spot and your car isn't even in this row! Wtf?" At least that's what I imagine she's saying, but I can't read her lips. I just know she is not happy. At all.

How, pray tell, do I react to this crazy loon? "Really? Rrrreally? You're pissed at me because I am parked in the next row?" It's not as if I said, "Hey follow me and you can have my spot." And it's not as if she asked me where I was parked. Heck, It's not as if we ever made eye contact!'s not as if there aren't plenty of open spaces scattered throughout the parking garage! Not to mention, the last time I drove a HUGE vehicle, it didn't require any more effort on the gas pedal to make the car move, so what is this woman's problem? Drive to the next aisle and the spot is yours, for crying out loud.

Who knows what was really behind her melt-down, I just knew that I wasn't going to stick around to find out if a) she was armed and b) if one of her kids was in one of my kids' classes at school. Cause I'm pretty sure her kid would have beaten the crap out of my kid. Something tells me that short fuses run in that family. I made a bee line for my little car and high tailed it outta there. Holy guacamole.

Next stop: the grocery store. Now that's a parking lot worthy of some serious parking lot rage. Especially around lunch hour because the grocery store is surrounded by eateries and a coffee shop and a Smoothie King and parking is at a premium, to say the least. As luck would have it, it was just after noon when I pulled in and began my search for a spot. I noticed a friend walking into the grocery store, so I beeped and waved. She didn't recognize me with my hair pulled back, my baseball cap pulled down low and my big I rolled down the window and said, "Hey, you have no idea who I am, do you?" My voice gave me away, but before she could respond, the car behind me, ok, the car up my you-know-what, starts blowing her horn and signaling me to get the heck out of the way. Not sure if she had an oval sticker on the back, but she could do with one that reads RLX. Get it? Relax. Clever, huh? That's what I love most about those stickers...they are sooo dang clever. They get me every time. Every. Single. Time.

Anyway, I believe this town has gone mad. Not sure if it's the threat of swine flu or the trouble at Bank of America or the struggling economy in general, but people are on edge. I think everybody needs to take a deep breath, get out of their cars and take a long walk. I, for one, am steering clear of Target for awhile. I can't avoid the grocery store, but I figure I've got another 6 weeks before my grey hairs start standing on end and demanding that I return to the Mother Ship....

1 comment:

Karen said...

Hooray! A new blog that's not about Idol. (You know I love the blogs, just don't watch so don't care...) How perfect is that sticker graphic? Did you make it yourself?