The Parking Garage

My folks had been looking forward to seeing Anne Murray in concert for several months, but at the last minute were unable to attend. As their favorite daughter (and the only one in the area) the pair of tickets was left to me. I went with a friend and had a rockin' good time. The crowd was definitely an over 60 bunch, but I like old people and aside from the occasional crinkling of hard candy being unwrapped, you would have never known this excitable crowd was full of senior citizens. Anyway, the concert was great but the trouble began as I was exiting the parking garage.


I pulled out of my space and turned, following all of the appropriate arrows. Now, I was definitely going against a thick slow line of traffic, all the while silently wondering what those fools were doing. As I crawl along, accelerating with the pace of a two-toed sloth, I become aware of the glares coming from the other drivers as I inched by. There was one driver in particular shooting me vile glances, who had her head literally sticking out of her window, pointing at me. Her head was protruding so far out of her vehicle that if I were to pass her (and I was approaching quickly), the hood of my car would have lopped it right off. I continue my journey and am still against traffic when I slowly pull up to her, careful not to graze her forehead. "YOU are going the wrong way," she says coldly. I begin to think to myself that maybe I should just turn around and join the other downstream fish, perhaps all of the sign and arrows I have been following were incorrect…

Not wanting to resist any longer (I will never survive a revolution), I pull into a space to attempt a 3 way turn and join the line of traffic. Of course, much to the amusement of my friend and I, no one would let us in. I say amusement because at this point I am laughing so heartily tears are streaming down my face. Just as a car gave me space to inch backwards, two old ladies, who seemingly just materialized from the thin noxious air of the parking garage, ambled behind my car. Realizing I was maneuvering out of the space, the ladies then abruptly turned towards the front of my car, and though there was plenty of room, one of the dames actually walked into my hood. By this time, the kind soul letting me into the line had long since moved on and I was left in the same spot once again.

After several minutes of desperate looks and 180 degree head turns, one fellow begrudgingly gives me a millimeter of room to back in to. However, every time I inch out of my space, he inches forward. I finally pull out, happy to be on my way and leaving the exhaust filled parking jail, only to find myself parallel to the car I thought had let me in. Not only had he not allowed me to get in front of him, I had now created my own lane of traffic, similar the problem I had before. I put my head in my hands, ready to abandon the car and walk, when finally a huge white SUV took pity and let me in.

We escape the parking garage unscathed, emerging 30 minutes after the initial pullout. As I take a final turn out onto the main road, I look to my left and see the white SUV, the one that came to my rescue just moments before. I solemnly nod, hoping he receives my quit thanks. He does, nods back and turns down the road, disappearing into the dark, misty evening.


Boy, those Anne Murray fans are tough...