Anyone who lives in Queens and Brooklyn, or visits New York City on a regular basis knows how bad parking is, regardless of the neighborhood you’re in. I work in Fresh Meadows, right on the border of Jamaica Estates.
Parking, for the most part, is pretty good, and there’s lots of residential areas where no one needs to worry about alternate side parking, but there are days just as bad as when I was going to school in Flushing, which is hands down one of the worst places to park in all the boroughs.
When I first started going to Queens College, I gave myself plenty of time to find the best possible spot, but I’d always look past the spots further away hoping I could make my walk to class a little easier.
And as you could probably guess, there would be no spots close to school, and I’d have to settle for the original spots I passed on earlier, only to find out that those were gone too and then I’d have to park over ten blocks away in the middle of nowhere.
Anyone New Yorker that’s been in my position will hopefully relate to this story, and anyone outside of New York should laugh at our misfortune and wonder why we’re so willing to put up with so much!
He knew it would happen the second he walked out of the office towards his car. He would lose his spot that took over half an hour to find. Everywhere he needed to go was in walking distance, but he needed to get gas for his commute home. It troubled him to do something he knew would cause him grief for the rest of the day. He knew the city was out for blood — his blood.
The good thing, however, was that time was on his side. If he got back within ten minutes, he had a chance. A small one, but a chance. He also had to go to the bank, which was only a block away, but going in the same direction. He would walk in and use the ATM inside because everyone who used the drive-up ATM always felt the need to take as much time as possible; no one else had anywhere else to be. They probably had driveways to park in.
As long as everything went exactly as it planned out in his head, he’d get back and still have his spot and not be late coming back from lunch. As anyone except a man in a hurry, so convinced the world will do him a favor just this once, would expect, the ATM in the bank was broken. “It swallowed my card,” said the rabbi waiting for someone in the bank to get his card back. A woman on the other machine was acting like this was her first time using this machine. She pressed the buttons on the touch screen cautiously, as if they’ll bite her if she presses too hard.
After six minutes go by and she finally takes her receipt, he rushed to get his cash and get to the gas station. At the gas station, he saw an old friend from school who had to catch up at that exact moment. “Hi. How Are You? Good? Good. Me too. I’m sorry. I’m in a rush. It was nice talking to you. We’ll get a drink soon,” he said as he checked his phone to see how much time he had before he needed to get back. It was way past the ten-minute mark. Sixteen minutes. How in the world did sixteen minutes go by?
Panic set in as the parking gods started to work their magic. They did no one any favors, especially those who already knew what the deal was. When he finally got back to the corner he was parked on originally, he saw a black SUV Mercedes in his spot, forgetting this wasn’t Long Island, cursing as he rolled slowly down the block, begging anyone who’d listen for a spot. While doing so, a BMW races up from behind and honks their horn because they don’t have time to sit around and wait for this schmuck to get a spot. So being from Long Island, he pulls over for the BMW who then races up ahead and quickly backs into an open spot.
At this point he was so mad at himself for leaving in the first place that he couldn’t even see straight. He banged the steering wheel and cursed loudly enough to be heard through his closed windows if anyone were around. How could it happen? He knew it would happen, but why did it have to happen just because he took a chance. Why couldn’t he get a break? Just once.
He had to park at least ten blocks down. There was no making light of the situation, no silver linings. It was nice out, unseasonably warm for winter. He worked a desk job where he was on his ass all day, so he could probably use the exercise, but fuck that, and fuck that BMW, that fucking prick.
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