It's the most competitive sport you'll ever participate in. It's not football, baseball or boxing. It's trying to find a parking spot at the mall on a Saturday afternoon in December.
Adrenaline pumping, I joined the fray with the other competitors, driving up and down the rows at a slow creep, keeping a sharp eye out for the telling illumination of the ultimate prize -- a white backup light. Then I caught a glimpse of what can only be described as a "cheater." A woman had decided to stand in an empty parking space and "hold it" until her spouse sped down one aisle and then back up to her. This woman was clearly the Jose Conseco of holiday parking.
I was O for 1 in the parking lot, so I thought I'd give the parking structure a try. When I saw two teenage girls loading down a Camry with bags just a few cars away, I knew that I was in prime position. I could almost taste the victory at hand.
The girls chit-chatted non-stop, seemingly oblivious to me and the ever-growing queue of cars trapped waiting behind me. Too much time had gone by since they entered the Camry.
Cars behind me had started to honk. I pulled my car forward slightly, just enough to see the girls' feet up on the dashboard, with the driver kicked back in her seat, a cell phone plastered to her ear. As I drove on up the ramp, I had a strange feeling that the folks behind me were not having joyful holiday thoughts about me at that moment.
Finally, on the uppermost floor of the parking structure, in a dark corner, next to the wall farthest from the mall elevator, I found my spot. Since it was, without question, the worst possible parking space in the mall, my victory seemed hollow. I locked my car with slow resignation and headed off for the long, long walk to the mall entrance.
When I finally I returned to my car, my feet throbbing and my arms loaded with holiday gifts, I stopped dead in my tracks. Parked next to my vehicle, in a spot clearly marked "COMPACT CAR," was an SUV that made my SUV look like Mini Me.
There was no way I could open my driver's side door. And there was no way I was going to stand there on my aching feet and wait until the driver came back. So I did what any woman of refinement would do: I chucked the presents in the back and I crawled in on the passenger side.
With all the grace and agility of a water buffalo, I began to climb over the center console. This went well, right up to the point when my pocket caught on the console latch and a distinct ripping sound filled the air. Seconds later, as I brought my foot up and over, my shoe managed to fall off into the abyss of the passenger-side floor.
By the time I plopped myself into the driver's seat, I had ripped pants, one shoe on, and was definitely not thinking happy holiday thoughts. I have my strategy all planned out to win the competitive sport of holiday parking next year. It's called "The Internet."
InterActive! Traffic School Online traffic school uses games, animated cartoons and multimedia for program delivery.
