Parking Madness
At the post office, there is a short strip of parallel parking spots directly in front. There are about 3 handicapped spots, and 3 regular spots. They aren’t marked off with white lines, so those 3 spots might fit 4 compact cars, or maybe only 2 big SUVs, and since the spots are highly coveted, cars are often crammed in very tightly. When I pulled up, there was a very small spot open. Not large enough for any cars, it was only 5 or 6 feet longer than my scooter. There was an old American car (a Buick or something) stopped in the street ahead of the spot, and a big SUV stopped behind her, partially obscuring the tiny parking spot. I ducked in between the SUV and the parked cars to park in the perfectly scooter-sized spot.
As I was putting the scooter up on its center stand, I heard a honk. The lady in the giant Buick was waving the people in the SUV back, and giving me a dirty look. I pointed at the parking spot, with a questioning look on my face, and she nodded vigorously. There was no way she was getting into that spot. I walk over to her window and say, “Uh, you want this spot?” and she said “Yes, of course, why do you think I was stopped here?!?” I told her, “All right, all right, I’ll give it too you, but next time put on your blinkers so people know what you are doing, k?” and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. I pulled out of the spot, and went a few spots up the street, where I found another little mini-spot to put the scooter in. I looked over to see her attempt to make the spot. She failed, but tried again. Then again. Each time not realizing that her car was probably 6 feet too long. Finally she pulled away, defeated. I gave her a snide look and a big goofy shrug, putting my hands up in the ‘Oh well!’ stance. The SUV pulled past, and a young lady rolled down the window. A guy inside cheered at me, and the lady shouted, “Did she really think she was going to get IN there??”
A few minutes later, I saw the Buick lady in the post office, and gave her a big grin, while she skulked past. I suppose its not nice of me to be smug, but she was a bitch, and then got put in her place when her big American car couldn’t fit in the spot, even after she shouted out people who did fit. Typical.
But thats not all!
Once in the post office, I noticed that the machine that dispenses numbers (you know the kind “Please take a number and wait until your turn is called”) didn’t have a number sticking out of it. The office was still calling out numbers, but it seemed the last few people who had come in didn’t have numbers yet due to the malfunctioning machine. I walked up to it, peered inside, popped open a latch, lifted the lid, and extracted my number, 97. Upon seeing my discovery, 3 or 4 people walked over and got their numbers. My willingness to explore and manipulate my environment earned me the ability to jump ahead in line. Those who weren’t bold enough to go after the numbers were forced to follow in my footsteps.
Remember, the clever monkey gets the banana.
Tuesday 10 Dec 2002 | Sam | Personal
Yep, that’s what folks always said..”would your little monkey like a banana?” and I would reply “oh, if he wants a banana, he is clever enough to get it himself. Thanks anyway.” And so it goes…..
Unfortunately, my ‘clever method’ was usually to raid their pockets, steal the banana and whatever cash I could find, and then assault them with feces when they tried to chase after me. Naughty monkey…
that feces trick helped cut back on need for diapers! the cash came in handy too! frugal monkey!...
Heh, ALWAYS revel in that feeling of smug superiority.
My clever monkey-boy, we dun raised uz up good, lil feller…
dad