Sunday, April 12, 2015

Some Things Are Good For The Goose But Not For The Gander, And Some Things Are Good For Both

If that don't beat all! You'll never believe the parking situation at The Devil's Playground this morning. Okay. I'm sure you WILL believe it. Because it is, after all, The Devil's Playground.

The Pony and I got a late start, because I had a ham in the oven. That's not a euphemism for anything. I literally had a ham in the oven. Once I took it out (not in the manner than Elaine's date took it out), we were free to throw in another load of laundry (not in the oven, of course, but into the washer where laundry belongs), and hit the road.

Since we were coming up on church let-out time, I thought we might have trouble finding a parking spot. Au contraire! Right by the doors to the grocery end were three EMPTY handicap spots, and the two right next to them empty as well. I pulled into the first regular empty slot.

"I'm leaving room, Pony, in case the person who parks next to me crowds the line. I always try to leave room to get my door all the way open. I might be over close to the handicap space, but it's wider, and has that striped line between them for extra room, and I figure if the person driving is handicapped, it's not in a physical way that needs a wheelchair on the driver's side and a lot of room."

"Okay." The Pony doesn't really care about my ability to get back into T-Hoe, or about the handicapped.

We went about our shopping. The Pony played his two dollars in the game room. We saw that The Devil now has HUGE plastic bags instead of the small plastic bags. Which seems wasteful to me, because they still rip if the corners of boxes gouge them, and you can only put so many canned goods inside until they are too heavy to lift. Out we went to the parking lot. Nobody still in the handicap spaces. A brown little SUV next to me, nearing the line, but just far enough in its own space that I could open T-Hoe's door all the way, and have about 3/8 of an inch left over before it would have touched that car. We loaded up T-Hoe's rear and got in.

While I was writing the amount from my debit card, and balancing the checkbook, those brown car folks came out and left. So there was now the space next to me empty, and the one on the other side of it. I guess that's the best time to go shopping now.

Just as I was putting away my checkbook, a minivan pulled in next to me. At an angle. Very close. I could not have opened up T-Hoe's door even to the first notch without hitting it. I felt like Melissa McCarthy in The Heat. I wanted to open my door and ram that other car five or six times. But I did NOT want to crawl through three cars to find a space big enough to open the door and get out. The lady inside that minivan was oblivious. She had her cell phone glued to her ear, which I am sure was the case when she parked. The back end of that minivan was even closer. I'm not sure The Pony could have fit a hoof down in between our cars without touching both.

I backed out. And saw the extent of that wench's bad parking skills. Her front tire was over the line and in my parking space. The back tire even more. I know she wasn't adjusting because of the car on the other side of her, because there was no car on the other side of her!

As we left the lot, I told The Pony, "I wish I would have tapped on her window and said, 'Don't you know how to park?'"

He made a noise like, "Errrrrr."

"Why? Don't you think I'd do it?"

"I know you would do it. But I don't think you should. She would probably laugh in your face."

"Or shoot me in the face. It's a good thing I don't carry a gun."

"I know!"

I think The Pony is really looking forward to going away to college. If only he would look forward to getting his driver's license so he doesn't have to ride with me everywhere.


Oh, yeah, And in case you didn't get the title, it's fine for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom to park over the line so her door will open all the way, but not for anybody else. It's even finer for laws to be in place to keep most people from carrying guns in their cars.


Sioux said...

I reiterate. I have a book of "tickets"--available for sale--that say, "Obviously, from the way you park, you are mentally handicapped. You--because of your stupidity--are eligible for a handicapped parking tag. Please go to www.ucannotparkworthash**.com to get your tag."

How many ticket books would you like? I'll take cash, check, debit cards or Good Feet Store coupons...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Oh, dear. I must stay away from those ticket books. I would be tossing them to-and-fro like an over-enthusiastic flower girl at an espresso-themed wedding.