A compassionate word to the parking-skills challenged

This is the third businessday in a row that my normally trouble free parking experience has been disturbed by several different putzes. And I’m not happy about it. I don’t want an exciting, looooong, parking experience. I want a boring, quick, routine parking experience. If only the putzes would let me.

This is an open letter to his or her putzness:

Dear Putz,

I have two small complaints that I’d like to share with you verbally, before takeing a baseball bat to your front panel.

First: If you are incapable of backing into a spot in, oh…let’s say three tries, get driving lessons and quit trying until then. This morning, during your twelve (12! I counted) tries to back your car into a spot that an aircraft carrier could have docked in, you blocked at least 9 cars that I could count which caused a traffic hazard on the road leading into the parking lot. My impressions of your machismo (or fachismo, I couldn’t tell) will not be in the least diminished if you pull into the parking spot “head first”.

Second: Park between the lines, not on top of them. I can’t stress this enough. I realize that years of snorting coke have rotted your brain so much that you now find yourself pavolvian-conditioned to center yourself on white lines, but…and this is key: YOUR CAR CAN’T SNORT THEM! We have about 400 employees who work the day shift in our building and about 380 parking spaces. If you and your ilk take up 3 of them for each of you, there’s that many less for the rest of us.

I know this might damage your delicate, butterfly-like spirit, but you’ll get over it. Straighten up and park right.

Fenris

*Note: the reason that this was “compassionate” per the thread subject is that I didn’t actually hit them with a ball-bat (or, as I like to call it, a “larnin’ stick”). :smiley:

I had this conversation with a co-worker a few months ago:

Parking-skills Challenged Co-worker: “Mike, let me know when you are leaving for the day.”

Me": “Umm, O.K. Why?”

P-sCC-w: “Well, I parked kinda close to your door, so you probably won’t be able to get into your car. But it’s O.K. I’ll just move my car if you leave before me.”

So, you realized that you gave me 2 inches of door clearence when you parked, but instead of correcting your parking job you decided to tell me you are an incompetant ass instead. The urge to go out to my car and repeatadly slam my door into yours was overwhelming…

Turns out the lazy twit ended up leaving before me anyways…

Some people…

And for the love of all that is holy, if you’re blocking someone else who’s trying to get out because you want a different space, move your car so s/he can get out.

And while you’re walking to your car, watch where you’re going so other people don’t run you over.

Robin

And when parallel parking, don’t park your car 10 centimeters away from mine when you have 4 meters of space left on the other side of your vehicle. Because I will get out of that space, no matter what. My car has a protective rubber strip around the bumpers. Yours may not, and I only care about that if you’re not deliberately locking me in my parking space when you could have kept more distance.

Bumpers are not meant for 120 km/h crashes. They’re meant for small nudges while parking. So, asshole in your big shiny Chrysler 300LM (I think that’s the one), sorry for chipping off a bit of paint from that completely sprayed front bumper (no protective strip. Not my fault.), but you could have used the 2.5 meters between the huge ass of your Chrysler and the adjacent tree.

To the owner of the purplish van out in the parking lot right now:

Hi there. I’m not sure who you are, but I’ll find out in due time. Look, I know the factory made your vehicle bigger than normal and I appreciate that. See, I understand that because we both know you didn’t buy a Yugo 13 years ago and it hit a growth spurt during puberty. It’s a large freaking vehicle.
But if you look over there to the North (that’s on the left, in case you need directional help too), you’ll see all sorts of empty spaces on the side of the building. You can park your wooly mammoth over there.
I’m not trying to be anti big car here. Heavens no! It’s just that most people prefer to take up one space per vehicle. You take up two.
I could understand the occasional slip. Everyone makes mistakes. We all learn that from Seseme Street. But for some reason unknown to the rest of the building, you believe it is your God given right to park smack dab in the middle of the line, giving yourself two parking spaces for the price of one.
See that soccer mom in the SUV? She managed to fit her Trooper into one stop. See that bread delivery van? He managed to fit himself into one spot.
The rule, buddy, is one car, one spot. If you cannot follow this rule, I shall have to make you. If I see your car there tomorrow, I’m taking a chainsaw down the middle of it so you can have two cars parked neatly in their proper spaces.

Sincerely,
the man who prefers not to walk an extra 20 yards to the front door every morning.

And please. See this permit I have on my car? I pay $400 a year for it. $400 a year to park in this here structure. Thus, I get a little perturbed when I can’t find a parking space after circling up seven goddamn levels because you decided to sneak in here and park with no permit.

Sure you might get a $20 ticket, which would be delight me. But you might not. And the $20 goes to the city, not to ME, the person who had to circle DOWN seven levels and go to a pay-as-you-go city lot five blocks away and pay $9 to park for the day.

Move your damned car.

Ooh, how timely!
To the Motherfucking asshole in the street last night:

When I pulled into the parking lane to get a space last night, you were standing behind me in front of the car I wanted to park in front of. I waited for a minute but you stood there just looking at the pretty lights of the cars go by…I assume you are easily amused by bright sparkly things.
Then I leaned out, asked you to move so I could back up and not RUN you over. Your response: to just point at the ground??!?!? WHAT the fuck does that mean? This is a STREET fer Chrissakes! You don’t stand there like a fucking idiot and wave at the people across the street! You get on the fucking sidewalk!!
I did this twice more, then just backed up, making you get out of the way. You started talking shit about my parking!

LISTEN up Fuckwad! I am trying to park with a small but reasonable amount of space so others can possibly get a space. I live on a busy street with rush hour parking so if you use up all the spaces, the people who work for a living instead of selling drugs and stolen car parts like yourself have to park on the side of the street that forces them to leave before 7AM or risk a $100 ticket!

NOW HERE IS THE IMPORTANT part!!! When I went in the house with the kids, holding my tongue due to their presence, that did not give you the right to break my tail light!!
When I find you, I will break your kneecaps. Period.
Or maybe I’ll call Sgt. Legler and let him know about your marijuana wholesaling business. You will not get away with this, and you will either feel pain from me, or get assfucked by 2 large men in Cook County Jail…preferably both.

Arrrrrr! Parking is the bane and poison of my otherwise untainted existance. Ever since the city has seen fit to try to squeeze 100% of the cars into 50% of the street’s already-over taxed spaces, my life has become hell to the 7th degree. Rogue parkers roam the streets, placing their expensive cars 6 inches from mine even though they have 5 feet in front of them. Minnesota’s snow fall has been so high that there is a winter parking ban in Mpls and my parking lot for work seems to have shrunk with the snow consuming about 1/4 of the lanes’ area. Oh, why must I be tortured so.

Ah, the fun of Thayer lot!! If you’re really lucky, someone will be pulling out on the lower levels just as you get in. <crosses fingers>

LL

LL

Another nice thread, Fenris - and just when I’ve been mulling over posting about this topic. Guess this is as good a place as any…

To the nameless, faceless asshole whose car is so MUCH more important than mine:

Consider this your warning. I am armed (with righteous indignation, anyway), and I am coming to get you.

See, I know it was pretty busy in the parking lot the other day. And yeah, I know it’s sometimes a little tight in there; I think whoever painted the lines just wanted to cram in as many cars as humanly possible. Even still, it gets full fast, and so sometimes people have to park along the curb, like I did. It’s standard procedure to do so, but yeah, I know it makes it even more of a squeeze to maneuver. Believe me, I’ve been in your shoes.

That’s why I can almost, almost understand how it came to be that you backed out too far, too fast, and put a big fat old dent in my fender, leaving behind a swatch of white paint as spoor. I still think you’re an obnoxious cock gobbler who couldn’t steer his way out of a wet paper bag, but hey, I guess these things happen once in a while.

But, see, here’s where it all breaks down. Because apparently slamming into my car once didn’t give you enough room to finish backing out, so you pulled forward and rammed into it a SECOND TIME. So now, turdlicker, I’ve got not one, but TWO large, ugly dents in the side of my car. Either you’re the most incompetent driver this side of the retirement home, or you’re just a complete, unmitigated, self-centered goat felcher with not a single shred of regard for other people.

And since you didn’t bother to leave a note, or an apology, or anything other than a couple blotches of paint from your car before making your getaway, I’m going to have choose the latter.

But don’t worry, friend. Because I’m looking for you, and I’m going to find you. And when I do, I’ve got a bowie knife with your tires’ name written all over it, and a baseball bat that’s looking to get it’s first taste of windshield.

Asshole.

As I pull over to make a parallel park on the street, I have my signal light on, and I have pulled just a little in front of the obvious space. Now, when you come along and come to a screeching halt 6 inches from my back bumper, that just isn’t doing either of us any good. What did you think the signal light was on for? There isn’t any intersection within 50 feet of me. And when you pull out into oncoming traffic to go around me as I make a very quick, efficient parallel park, that’s just asking for even more trouble than your little pea-brain can imagine. Someday, you too will want to parallel park on a street with assholes lining up behind you. I wish you the best of luck with that.

To the twits in the car behind me -
I know the end of the street is an on ramp. I know well, because I live there, in that apartment on the right. It is a hard thing to miss. And obviously, you are in a hurry to get on the freeway and drive wherever you are going.
BUT if you were looking at the other signs on the road, you assholes would have noticed that the actual speedlimit for the street is 25 mph. Which is what I’m driving.
I’m driving this slow because I’m searching for a fucking parking space. There really aren’t any right here, I’ve circled this, and the surrounding blocks about 5 times already, and am trying to find a place to put my car that is under a half mile away from my apartment. I have groceries. Its been a long day. I don’t want to walk that damn far carrying three full bags and dodging the jerks like you that are going 50mph in a 25mph zone. ((Of course there would be parking near my place if the powers that be ticketed people without street parking permits more frequently - so the price of parking on the street without a fucking permit became prohibitively expensive, and the idiots who did that stopped leaving their cars around where they obviously do not belong. But that’s another rant.))
So, driving 6 inches behind me is not going to make me go faster. Should I actually find a space, it’s going to piss me off because your stupid, not clearly thought out, “speed up” efforts are going to keep me from parking there. And then while I am forced to circle the block again, someone else will take the damn space, meaning I have to drive around even more, and probably park my car close to 3/4ths of a mile away before I finally give up parking within walking distance.
So, you better believe I’m going to slow way the fuck down. I have nowhere to be. I’m not in a hurry. You’re the only car behind me, so no one else has a complaint. The fact that I could run faster than I’m about to start driving doesn’t faze me in the least. And all you really have to do to get me to go faster would be to get out of my ass. But until you bother to do so, I’m not about to speed up, and even then, I’m not about to start speeding for your convenience, I only do that on my own time.

Fuckheads.

I’m reminded of that commercial where the cell phone-talking punk.com pulls up to the curb in his black Porsche convertible, honking so as to scare away some pigeons that an elderly man is feeding. The punk.com’s license plate reads “2rich4u”. He struts away, still talking on his cell phone. Next shot: the elderly man has strewn bird seed inside the Porsche so that a pigeon convention assembles there, and all the pigeons are pooping like crazy all over the black interior.
Now DON’T let this give any of you guys ideas.

To all of the people who insist on parking in front of my driveway:

Please, continue to do so. Los Angeles parking enforcement is on my speed dial. The first year I lived in this house, I was a very nice guy about it. Then I realized that the driveway is, in fact, clearly marked. You can see where the little brick wall ends and the driveway begins. And, for every $45 ticket you pay, LA gets about $38. So, please, continue to be a jerk and park away. If you are especially annoying about it, I can even have you towed off. Parking Enforcement will be there in about 10 minutes, and it amuses the hell out of me to watch you argue with them over whether you should be ticketed for being a jerk.

To my asshole neighbors,
The parking spots in our condominium’s are numbered for a reason. I realize that your family has more than one car. My family does also. We park our 2nd car in the unnumbered or on the street, which is still a private road.
I know my spot is the closest to the building. I’m sorry you have to walk an extra one spot to get inside. I understand that occasionally you need to unload groceries, or children or whatever. I tried to be neighborly and not raise a fuss when you did this the 1st few times. A thanks, a hello, a wave, smile, something would be the proper acknowledgement for that. Turning the car off and going inside isn’t. Telling your guests to park there is also considered rude. Telling your guests to park there and not answering the fucking door when I come to it to tell them to move their fucking car is also inappropriate.
I’m sick of your excuses.
You didn’t know the spaces were numbered for a reason?
Bullshit, you’ve lived here for over a year.
You don’t understand English?
Again, bullshit. I talked to you when you moved in. You didn’t have trouble understanding park, here, tow truck.
Your mom is old and has trouble walking far?
I’m sorry for that, and I tried giving it the benifit of the doubt, but then realized A- Why the fuck don’t YOU park farther away and let her park close and B- I don’t believe you.

Good point. Most people don’t seem to understand that this is why they’re called “bumpers” and not “crashers.” The real crashers are, of course the real problem: the loose nuts behind the wheel.

But all you people with parking woes, take heart. I work at a car dealership with people who park cars as part of their jobs. Or to put it another way: They do it for a living. And they’re no better than anyone else. Cruise the lot behind my workplace and you’ll see a lot of cars parked crooked, cars sticking out into aisles, cars parked in aisles, and cars parked every way but correctly. Consequently I’ve gone from consciencious to outright anal with the cars I park myself. Each one is ruler straight relative to the space dividers. Just to prove a point.

Sometimes having an old beat up car is wonderful. Someone park so close to me that I can’t get out without scraping along their fender? No problem, I probably won’t even be able to notice the new scrape on mine after I get out. And if I have to climb in my car through the passenger side, I’ll still bang my driver’s side door against yours a few times before I leave.

And tailgaters? You DO realize that if you hit someone from behind in my state you are automatically at fault? Oh, I gave you a little scare? No sir, my brake lights work, I just thought it would be more fun to let off the gas and downshift to second when you started following less than a foot behind me.

What gets me is that these people are actually able to reproduce.

We have two parking spaces, the cars that park behind ours park at a right angle to ours due to the shape of the parking lot.

I wish these people would realize is that the two spaces behind my car are **not[/] parking stalls but the space I need to back my car out. There’s nothing I like better than going door to door to find the morons who continually insisit on blocking my parking spot.

We have a school across the street from us and for some strange reason the parents of the children there think that ours is a public lot. They park their vehicles in the aforementioned no parking area and leave to take their kids into the school.

It’s on days like these that I miss owning the Land Cruiser with the massive steel bumpers and the 8000 lb winch.

To the pasty, waddling young man with the expensive SUV:

I realize that you have probably mortgaged your home to buy a car that you haven’t the ability to drive. I also realize that in your mind, your shiny, shiny car makes you the most important person.

I would, however, like to offer you this handy tip about parking. When you park diagonally across three spaces in a packed parking lot, you aren’t actually reducing the likelihood that your car will be damaged. True, other drivers are less likely to scratch your doors, but this is more than offset by the increased likelihood that they will beat your car into an unrecognizable cube of metal. My only hope is that you will be inside when they do so.

And there’s even a moral! And just deserts! And BLOODY VENGANCE. Ok. Not bloody. But vengance, nonetheless…

I head out for lunch today, and ask The Security Guy if I can get him anything. Me an’ The Security Guy talk regularly and I often pick him up lunch, since he’s stuck at his desk for his shift. Nice guy, too (although he still hasn’t quite figured out EMAIL ETTIQUITE, TYPING IN ALL CAPS! His most repeated message: ATTENTION, IF YOU OWN CARS WITH THE FOLLOWING LICENSE PLATE NUMBERS, YOU ARE PARKED ILLEGALLY! YOU WILL BE TOWED IF YOU DONT MOVE THEM RIGHT NOW! …nonetheless…)

Anyway, I go out to my car and the cretin who believes that you park on the lines has parked a few microns from my driver’s side door. I might have been able to get the key in, but then again, maybe not. On the other side is someone unfamiliar with the term “parallel”. I’d have had to squeeze past his left rear bumper to get to my passenger’s door and backing out would have been a bitch.

I went back inside and griped to The Security Guy. Who promptly exploded. “Is the car who parked diagonal a <color, make>?” he demanded? I allowed that it was. He said “This is the fourth complaint I’ve had about that asshole. I’ve sent emails to the driver and their supervisor. I’ve Goddamned had it!”

He promptly calls the building management company, gets an ok and calls for a couple of tow-trucks who arrived about 15 minutes later and towed the offending vehicles off to the impound lot. Justice is sweet, but revenge is sweeter. The Security Guy, showing a heretofore unseen nasty streak that I truly admire wrote the following e-mail to everyone:
ATTENTION, IF YOU OWN THE CARS WITH THE FOLLOWING LICENSE PLATE NUMBERS, YOU WERE PARKED ILLEGALLY! YOU HAVE BEEN TOWED! YOU MAY RETRIEVE YOUR CARS BY GOING TO XXX LOT AND PAYING YYY AMOUNT. THOSE OF YOU WHO ALSO HAVE CARS THAT ARE PARKED ILLEGALLY BE ADVISED THAT MORE TOW TRUCKS ARE ON THE WAY. BUILDING MANAGEMENT WILL NOT WARN YOU AGAIN.

Within about 5 minutes, there was a mad rush of about 10 people out to move their cars. It’ll be interesting to see what parking’s like tomorrow.

The moral of the story: All Hail The Security Guy! Fear His Mighty Wrath! (hey, I never said it was a good moral)

Fenris