Bad Parking

For me, parking is one of the most fury-inspiring things imaginable. My loathing of parking most likely stems from my general impatience. Trying to find a spot in a crowded lot is one big tease. I drove all the way to my location, I can see the entrance, and yet I can't find a place to park my car. I would like to dream calmly about George Jetson and his spaceship that folded into a portable suitcase, but I'm usually too busy screaming and swearing.

I typically employ good parking-lot etiquette, though, as I fear a confrontation with a larger gentleman who might punch me in the face after I steal his spot. I don't speed in the parking lots. I don't inch my bumper onto the pedestrian's legs while following them to their car.

I wish all people were more considerate, or at least aware of their surroundings, to create a more pleasant parking experience.


















Sometimes, when people do strange things on the streets, I can give them the benefit of the doubt by thinking, "Maybe they are unfamiliar with the rules of the road." But this isn't some obscure, footnote DMV rule; this is just staying within the white lines. With so many other cars, this driver has one of two options: 1) They don't care about society and want Jungle Law or 2) They are ridiculously ignorant.


















I'll admit I don't know the "official" rules about parking motorcycles, but I know this: parking your midlife crisis in a perfectly good parking spot in a crowded lot when there is designated motorbike parking is just rude. I would park my car in your tiny, designated motorcycle spot just to spite you, but my car is actually functional and can carry things besides an aging man wearing a leather vest.


















If these kids had enough money to shop at Santana Row, they should be spending their money on copies of The Amy Vanderbilt Complete Book of Etiquette. Leaving your bikes in front of the store entrance? These kids are hooligans and rapscallions in the making.