I’m not Ms. Perky Parkie all the time. I do have times when I am just a regular girl doing regular things. Just like when I was driving home from work yesterday. I pull into my apartment (or should I say my loft) and drive the road I am quite familiar with, but today it was different. There were a group of men working right across from my parking spot. It didn’t take me long to notice their attire. They were sporting jeans, white shirts, construction hats and just the perfect amount of sweat glistening off their biceps.
I thought I was just going to slide right into my parking space with ease, giving them a quick glance and a smile. But as I approach my spot, I notice their white construction van is slightly in the path of my destination. Still radiating confidence, I turn to pull into my spot. With the rotation of my wheels, I see that I might hit the car parked next to my spot, so I stop and back up my car. Then I put it into drive, start to move forward and then realize I am going to hit the wooden post of the carport.
I wish that I could say that this adventure had a happy ending…. but no. I continue to complete a 5-point turn attempting to reach my spot, but ultimately end up hitting the wooden post of my carport. Just like Titanic hitting the iceberg, scraping the side of my car… I can hear the tearing of metal and the faint screams of passengers… ok, small exaggeration. I glance in my rear-view mirror when I see I have an audience. The crew of glistening muscle men are now are just watching me. One man is leaning up against his shovel, shaking his head.
I finally get my boat docked in the harbor and slowly begin to gather my belongings. I take my time, hoping the group of men would lose interest and start working again. But of course not… I open my car door and glance up. They were just staring at me. I knew that I had to come up with a smart comment that would satisfy my need to acknowledge what just happened and convey that this was the first time I Titanic’d my car, while still appearing to look cool. But all that I came out was, “That just happened.”
Real smooth, I know. But it gets better, with my hands full, I see a puddle of mud that the men had created while working. With conviction I begin to bunny-hop over the puddle, but slip and land in smack dab in the middle of the miniature pond. I was somehow able to stay on my feet, but had splattered mud up my legs. I decided to end the show on a high note and began to walk to my apartment. With my shoes squishing with each step, I thought to myself, “Well at least I was memorable.” Needless to say, I walked my dog Crash the opposite direction of the construction crew.