by
NINAD JOG
Everyday's story differs in the details, but the outcome is almost always the same, and thankfully so.
As I drove along the side street near my office earlier this morning, the free street parking appeared to be full. But I noticed a large Honda car nestled in one of the spots -- noticed it because its lights were on, which probably meant it was about to leave or had just arrived. I slowed down and pulled alongside it.
The driver, a middle-aged woman with her long hair covering half her face, noticed me even though she was preoccupied doing her makeup, and waved me away. I drove on. Mighty kind of her to give me a heads-up, I thought, or else I'd have waited for who knows how long, hoping she would vacate the spot.
On second thoughts I could see that she had just arrived, because from what I've observed, women often do their make-up when they arrive at their workplace, not when they leave home. Besides, her car had Maryland tags, and the very fact that she had parked on a street in Virginia suggested that she had arrived at work. And oh, it must've been dark when she left her home in Maryland, which explained why her car's lights were on in broad daylight.
(Maybe I should try my hand at being a detective. I might succeed beyond anyone's wildest dreams.)
My only hope of finding free parking now lay in the school parking lot across the street. But a quick glance told me it was full. Every spot was taken, now that the snow from the blizzard of two weeks ago had melted and freed up the three spots it had occupied.
But I turned into the lot anyway, just to make a three-point turn in the lot to turn back. I could've made a U-turn on the street instead, as there's no divider, and my car can make tight turns, being small. Besides, on occasion, a spot in the school parking lot has opened up after I made the three-point turn and got ready to leave the lot, making it worthwhile to venture there in the first place.
But today I had no such luck. The lot continued to be packed with cars and woefully bereft of people. It was not going to be a lucky day. I resigned myself to parking in the garage under my office building, paying the $8 in parking charges, an amount that seems heftier with each passing day.
As I left the lot and drove back along the side street, my gaze wandered to the other side of the street. And lo and behold - there was a big hole in the free parking spots. So big that an elephant could have sat in it if it wanted to.
I could scarcely believe my eyes. The woman who had waved me away, so urgently, so ungraciously, so unseemingly, just moments ago, had vanished without a trace -- along with her make-up kit, and more importantly, her car.
At that point my mind switched to auto-pilot mode. My car didn't hesitate before making an immediate U-turn in the middle of the street. Safety be damned. Parallel parking was a breeze. Venturing into the school parking lot even when it was full did have its rewards. The day did not get off to a bad start after all.
(p.s. I should not try my hand at being a detective. I'll get caught on the wrong foot, and I will fail miserably. That much I can guarantee.)
NINAD JOG
Everyday's story differs in the details, but the outcome is almost always the same, and thankfully so.
As I drove along the side street near my office earlier this morning, the free street parking appeared to be full. But I noticed a large Honda car nestled in one of the spots -- noticed it because its lights were on, which probably meant it was about to leave or had just arrived. I slowed down and pulled alongside it.
The driver, a middle-aged woman with her long hair covering half her face, noticed me even though she was preoccupied doing her makeup, and waved me away. I drove on. Mighty kind of her to give me a heads-up, I thought, or else I'd have waited for who knows how long, hoping she would vacate the spot.
On second thoughts I could see that she had just arrived, because from what I've observed, women often do their make-up when they arrive at their workplace, not when they leave home. Besides, her car had Maryland tags, and the very fact that she had parked on a street in Virginia suggested that she had arrived at work. And oh, it must've been dark when she left her home in Maryland, which explained why her car's lights were on in broad daylight.
(Maybe I should try my hand at being a detective. I might succeed beyond anyone's wildest dreams.)
My only hope of finding free parking now lay in the school parking lot across the street. But a quick glance told me it was full. Every spot was taken, now that the snow from the blizzard of two weeks ago had melted and freed up the three spots it had occupied.
But I turned into the lot anyway, just to make a three-point turn in the lot to turn back. I could've made a U-turn on the street instead, as there's no divider, and my car can make tight turns, being small. Besides, on occasion, a spot in the school parking lot has opened up after I made the three-point turn and got ready to leave the lot, making it worthwhile to venture there in the first place.
But today I had no such luck. The lot continued to be packed with cars and woefully bereft of people. It was not going to be a lucky day. I resigned myself to parking in the garage under my office building, paying the $8 in parking charges, an amount that seems heftier with each passing day.
As I left the lot and drove back along the side street, my gaze wandered to the other side of the street. And lo and behold - there was a big hole in the free parking spots. So big that an elephant could have sat in it if it wanted to.
I could scarcely believe my eyes. The woman who had waved me away, so urgently, so ungraciously, so unseemingly, just moments ago, had vanished without a trace -- along with her make-up kit, and more importantly, her car.
At that point my mind switched to auto-pilot mode. My car didn't hesitate before making an immediate U-turn in the middle of the street. Safety be damned. Parallel parking was a breeze. Venturing into the school parking lot even when it was full did have its rewards. The day did not get off to a bad start after all.
(p.s. I should not try my hand at being a detective. I'll get caught on the wrong foot, and I will fail miserably. That much I can guarantee.)
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