Parking Spot Savers Aren’t Heroes — They’re Dirty Cheats
When a Perth man sat down to reserve his car space in the face of a convertible Lexus, to many it seemed like a heroic act of bravery (insert joke about Lexus drivers here), but personally it made my blood boil.
Parking spot etiquette is contested the world over, although in this case the city of Chicago agrees with me. In the Windy City, the act of placing a chair, table, ironing board or other inanimate object in the car space you dug out in the winter snow to save your spot is technically illegal.
Yet calling dibs is a fact of life. Growing up, calling shotgun was an important part of any car trip, as was calling dibs on the last Zooper Dooper in the freezer so your sibling couldn’t have it (especially important if it was the red flavor).
And the louder you were the more legitimate your claim. I think that my parents would often enforce the law of dibs, because otherwise things would rapidly descend into physical violence.
But as a (not even particularly mature) adult I am officially over it. It’s like when you’re patiently waiting in line for something, inching closer and closer to the front, when it turns out the person in front of you has been holding a spot for 20 of their nearest and dearest and suddenly you are behind a hoard that materialised out of thin air.
Who hasn’t been silently disappointed when someone bagsies that last slice of birthday cake at the work party to take home for their kid? We all know the only thing that makes selling your soul to sit in an office cubicle for 40 hours a week bearable is the feeble excuse of a ‘birthday party’ every few weeks that involves packet-mix cake, stale chips and recycled streamers.
Claiming that last slice of cake for someone who doesn’t even work in the office is a move lower than a pregnant snake's belly (and yeah right Tina, we all know it’s not going to make it near your progeny, you’ll be scoffing it on the way home).
It happens constantly at the gym as well -- people will leave their stuff on a bench, then wander off to do a complicated circuit involving 10 other machines (I used to know a lady who carried multiple gym towels to do this very thing).
Gosh forbid one of the regulars forgets to reserve their favourite bike in spin class, and then spends the whole class staring daggers at you because you dared to sit on ‘their’ bike.
Finding a car park in a busy area can be challenging at the best of times. It can take laser-like focus, the reflexes of a ninja and sometimes the critical thinking of a chess player to decide which car park row you will travel down next in the search for that critically endangered animal -- an open car space.
Imagine thinking you had seen one, accelerated up, gliding round the corner only to be confronted with some goose standing there, reserving the spot for a friend who is coming along who knows when.
You would be raging, and don’t deny it.
While I don’t think it’s ok to go around ‘nudging’ pedestrians when you are in a car, I am still on the side of the driver in this situation. If it was me in that luxury vehicle, first of all (well first of all I would be ringing everyone I ever met to let them know I now have a luxury vehicle) I would be giving them a solid toot followed by a few choice words and some hand gestures.
Then I would go park somewhere else, because life’s too short to bother with this nonsense (actually this a total lie, I am super petty and this whole situation would turn into an hours-long standoff).
So sorry car park man, you're no car park hero. If you are over the age of 12, there are simply no more bagsies.