Monday, February 22, 2010

The Parking Lot Tango

I always feel a little creepy trying to get a parking space at school in the morning. Maybe it's because I'm far, far too obsessed with not offending people and putting others at ease, but the entire ordeal makes me feel slightly ashamed of myself. For starters, my natural instinct is to affect the, "No, after YOU" courtesy that dominates my entire life, but it doesn't really come across in cars. I can gesture and smile all I want, but my charm is contained within my vehicle. I am a faceless threat.

Really, though, what bothers me is the stalking. Like vultures, people in cars circle the parking lot, drawing upon a victim as they stagger from the building, dazed and obviously dehydrated. Yes, this one is weak. It will surely die soon, and the feasting may commence.

Unlike carrion birds, though, we're not inclined to share our rotting corpses. Yes, rotting corpses here refers to parking spaces. Deal with it. Does that actually make us even worse than scavengers who gleefully wait for others to die so that they might feed, heartlessly watching the last breaths cease before screeching, "ALRIGHT, A FAT ONE! LUNCH!!!"? Probably. Or not. I don't care, I'm having too much fun with this simile.

Every day is like a recreation of that Kevin Carter photo. Okay, maybe that's a bit much, but the kid stays in the picture.

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