Saturday nights are hell nights where the horde descends upon the unsuspecting shopping centers. This usually means the fight for parking spaces can get bloody.
I pride myself in being lucky when it comes to parking spaces. I usually find one pretty fast, no matter the parking situation.
Apparently, tonight isn’t my night.
At one of the rows and rows of parking slots, I decided to wait until a spot opened up. Putting on my hazard lights and listening to the current audiobook on my queue. It’s Lola and the Boy Next Door, in case you were wondering.
Anyway, back to my rant.
I had been waiting for close to thirty minutes when finally a family of a gazillion kids pile into a small SUV. Don’t ask me how they all fit.
So I back up my car in anticipation to take their slot once they’ve vacated it.
Here is where things get bloody. Kids, you might want to avert your eyes.
Another car arrives and takes the slot before I can ease into it. Pissed, I honk my horn like there’s no tomorrow. Security arrives. He asks the car to leave. Asshole insists the spot is his. I’m even more pissed now.
Security personnel takes pity on my cute little self and leads me to one of the special parking spaces reserved for deliveries because I tell him that I just need it for five minutes in order to buy cat food. Not even for my loved ones, but for my mother’s. She had one hell of a day so I took one for the team.
In my head, I buy the cat food, return to the car that stole my spot, and key the side of said vehicle from bumper to fender. It’s a satisfying image, I tell you. And I think I would have done it too if there weren’t that many witnesses.
In my heart, I let go because why risk destruction of private property when I got a primo parking spot, bought the cat food, and know that the asshole will get what’s coming to him. Yes, I’m still slightly pissed.