I’m no psychic or fortune teller or anything like that, but every time I find myself out and about running errands, I’m fairly certain I know what my cause of death will likely be.
Odds are good at some point or another, I’m going to suffer a heart attack while trying to back out of a parking space. Yes, my friends, parking lots scare the absolute shit out me — and I honestly wish I were being overdramatic. I’m not. They really terrify me, you guys.
Especially the ones at the grocery store and Target. Those are the absolute worst. OMG. I’m having heart palpitations simply thinking about having to leave the parking lot of one of those two venues.
Think I’m exaggerating? Here’s a rundown of what goes through my head and comes out of my mouth upon exiting any parking lot. (I shit you not, this is how it happens every single time.)
(Picture me sitting in the car, looking stressed out and terrified.)
Deep breath. Deep breath. Big sigh. Deep breath.
I put the car in reverse, take another deep breath, glance at the back-up camera, and then turn my head around to make sure no other cars are coming.
I lightly tap the gas pedal and start to back out of the space.
I promptly slam on the breaks.
“DUDE! What the f*&% do you think you’re doing? Don’t you fu&%ing see me backing out? Slow the fu&% down!”
“People are fu&%ing crazy.” (Muttering under my breath.)
Check the back-up camera again. Look behind me again. Tap the gas pedal again.
Get about 1/4 out of the space before slamming on the breaks again.
“Seriously?!? Are you fu&%ing kidding me? This is insane!”
“Watch where you’re going, asshole!!!” (Said VERY loudly, but with the windows rolled up, of course.)
Cue the heart palpitations.
Check the back-up camera again. Slowly start to back out again. Start feeling confident after making it a good 3/4 of the way out of the space.
Jam the HELL out of the breaks after some chick walks directly in back of my car, oblivious to the fact that I’m backing out.
“OMG, lady!! Watch where you’re going, for crying out loud! I almost ran your ass right over!” (No, she can’t hear me.)
Finally finish backing out of the space, put the car into drive, and start breathing huge sighs of relief.
Chuckle a little bit because I managed to outsmart all the other idiots and successfully got out of the space without hitting anyone or anything.
Start to drive away …
“What the fu&% is this?!?”
Someone is waiting to pull into the space I just pulled out of, but they’re too far over in the middle of the row and now I can’t get by.
“You have GOT to be shitting me. If you want my space, back the fu&% up and MOVE the fu&% over!!”
He/she finally gets the message and backs up a half a foot.
I squeeze by, but just barely.
I bitch and moan the whole way home about how I fu&%ing hate parking lots, and how they’re going to be the death of me someday.
The next day, I repeat the exact same scenario all over again. (Fu&% me.)
Do parking lots creep you out too, or am I just a total head case?