The other night I was racing to try to make a 6:45pm exercise class that my friend was teaching. I had all kids in tow as Matt was going to be late that night. We bought a Honda Odyssey a year and a half ago. When looking for minivans, we were pretty much guaranteed of getting an Odyssey as Matt has a love affair with Honda. So we did, and I do love it. However, I still have not gotten used to its ginormous dimensions (yes, I can use the word "ginormous" because it is now in the dictionary). So when turning right, I often bump the back tire on the curb. When parking on the street, I often have two wheels in the grass. So the other night in my haste to make the exercise class, I did not do my best parking job. I think I was inside the yellow lines (or at least on them, which I consider "in" to follow most sports rules). But upon my return, there was a note torn from a yellow legal pad stuck to the winshield.
"Dear Sir or Maam
Your bad parking job made it very difficult for me to get into my car. What if I was disabled?! I hope in the future you take others into consideration when you are parking your car.
In Peace and Understanding"
At first I was really angry and felt like writing a note back (except there would be no car to pin it to). But that won't stop me. I will do so here.
"Dear Peaceful and Understanding Person,
Your smug note upset me. What if I had good reason to do a bad parking job, like having Irritable Bowl Syndrome?! I hope that in the future you consider others' circumstances before you jump to conclusions and write nasty notes.
In Forgiveness and Acceptance
PS-If you were disabled, I would hope that you would park in a handicapped spot. That's what they're for."
There. I feel better.
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One Saturday morning last summer, I drove to the farmer's market and parked in the angled spaces on East Ave near the high school track. The space was small, as the cars on either side were precariously close to the lines, but I squeezed in -- between my own two lines I might add.
I returned to my car to find a note on my window:
"Nice parking job. I couldn't get into my car on the driver's side. Thanks a lot bitch."
Nice, huh? Totally ruined my day. And why did they call me a "bitch"? Was I assumed to be a woman because of the minivan -- or because of the bad parking job?
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