Tag Parking

Brain Dump – Again!

Michael Leave a comment

Welcome to a new edition of “Let’s clear those brain cells!” or “Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most.”

IMG_2117Stay in your lane

Well, this fellow actually found his own lane to hang out in. I’m not sure what the laws in your state are but here, that much yellow paint in unmistakable diagonal lines means “no parking.”  This isn’t so bad. At least he isn’t parked in the diagonal blue lines next to a handicap space.  [sigh]

Shopping math, cyber edition

If you haven’t read any of my posts on toilet paper math, go there first. My daughter brought this one to my attention. So many discount, rebate, and coupon sites now are online, and all of them offer to find you the absolute best deal available – compared to regular posted prices. When you load multiple versions you are apt to find one offering you 5% of the regular price but only if you shop at the store with a coupon, another with 2% off the sale price but only if you shop online, or another offering free shipping but only if you buy it in magenta and are willing to answer a 45 question survey first. On a Tuesday. This all started when I mentioned I bought a new iPad last week from Amazon but I could have gotten the same deal at Target and saved 5% with their Red Card. I was all set to do that when it dawned on me that I was using a couple hundred dollars in gift cards that I had gotten by answering a variety of 45 question surveys and that beat 5% any day! [duh]

IMG_2029Old enough to drink

Last month my little car hit a milestone. It turned 21. Actually, It’s nearly 23 now but I don’t count the years before I adopted it. In honor of it’s birthday I had it retitled as a classic vehicle. As a classic I was able to negotiate a replacement price with my insurance company which is a good thing because given its condition, it’s worth more than 2-1/2 times the actual “blue book value.” Oddly enough, now that it is insured for 3 times what it was two months ago, the annual rate dropped by exactly half. I know the insurance company isn’t going to lose money on this deal. Hmm. I wonder if those guys ever took toilet paper math.

samsung-and-apple-logoBrand Disloyalty

I mentioned a few brain cells ago that I recently purchased a new iPad. It replaced a Samsung Galaxy tablet which itself replaced a Nook e-reader, which replaced a Bookman. (If you don’t recognize Bookman, you aren’t missing much. I don’t think it has been around since sometime in the 90s.) For some people, the thought of switching operating systems is absolutely unheard of. Families have been torn apart because someone dared stray from whatever everyone else had. Not me. I can flex. Right now I have an Apple phone and tablet, a Dell laptop and an HP desktop running Windows. The old tablet could mirror with the laptop but the desktop is so old it’s more of a paperweight right now and it only mirrors my reflection in its almost always darkened screen. It’s only the third desktop I’ve owned, the previous was a Gateway (wow, remember them!?) and before that, an Apple. Yes, in 1984 I bought my first Apple which was probably before some of the people who are running that company now were born. I doubt I’ll ever replace the desktop with another Apple. I doubt I’ll ever replace the desktop. When the laptop goes (and boy do they go – I can’t keep track of how many laptops I’ve had), I’ll figure out who has the best deal for what I want to use it for, of there are any deals available, and who has the best coupon code to use. But only after I review my post on toilet paper math.

That’s it for now. See you later!

IMG_2076

Blog Art (14)Did you stop by ROAMcare last week to read our take on “Special are those who plant trees knowing that they shall never sit in their shade,” the counterpoint to my post here last week? If you missed it, you can check it out now at www.roamcare.org. (Later this week we explain the meaning of life in five words! That posts Wednesday, July 20. You’ll want to read that one for sure!)

I’ll Have What He’s Having

Michael 3 Comments
The Academy Awards are behind us and the Oscar hoopla has pretty much faded away. I have a few more old Oscar nominees to watch. I’m still used to the awards being presented in March and February being the time to relish in the performances. Is it just me or do actors tend to speak better when reading somebody else’s lines as scripted than when they try to go their own way on the award stage? Anyway, I prefer the movie actor to the award show actor and often the movie world to real realty. Ironic, no?
 
Something that hit me this year watching my usual overdose level of film history is how much out there in movie land we can really use in real people land. Television land also has some pretty nifty gadgetry that we mere mortals could benefit from. Take for instance in 1966 just asking “Yo computer, how much longer till we get to the Romulan border?” and sure enough some snarky female voice speaks back “the. border. is. one. hundred. forty. light. years. away. and. will. be. reached. in. twenty. eight. and. one. half. minutes. if. you. don’t. stop. for. take. out. on. the. way.” Did Gene Roddenberry know Siri and Alexa were coming? If we’ve been able to harness computer power to become our personal assistants, why not some other seemingly outlandish inventions.
 
For example:
Movie people must have dishes that dry and put themselves away. I’ve seen dozens of movies this month with people eating and drinking and even in some instances washing dishes. But nobody ever dries them or puts them away. The only Oscar nominated movie I recall seeing somebody with towel in hand, drying dishes was Carole Lombard in My Man Godfrey. She didn’t do a really great job of drying and didn’t put them away but she was a millionaire socialite so I guess just the attempt at drying part was something special. They all have self-cleaning carpets also.
 
TelephoneThis one we sort of had but then technology took it away and we need it back – a phone you can pick up the reciever and just say who you want and somebody gets them for you. You need to go back to the 1930s for this invention. Everybody from cops to robbers to femme fatales to innocent bystanders could go to any phone and say “Get me John Smith” and sure enough, an operator would find John Smith, and the right John Smith. Progress took this away quickly (The Front Page). By the 1940s people were dailing their own numbers (Going My Way), by the 50s were getting wrong numbers (Anatomy of a Murder), by the 60s they were tearing pages out of phone books (In the Heat of the Night), and eventually we’ve worked our way to a time when there are no phone books and if you ask your computer assistant for John Snith’s number, unless John Smith is among you personal contacts, the answer will be, “I’m sorry I don’t have enough information.”
 
Cars run on no gas. Imagine not just driving for days, week, even months without filling up, but driving hard, fast, and often in multiple countries and never visiting a fuel station. Racing movies aside, nobody ever stops to fill up. The French Connection wouldn’t have stood a chance for Best movie if Popeye Doyle ran out of gas on 86th Street. The only movies I recall seeing somebody at a gas pump are High Sierra and National Lampoon’s Vacation and neither were Oscar nominees in any category. (I should note that in Vacation, Chevy Chase is seen wiping and putting away dishes but I believe they hadn’t been washed yet, so…)
 
Since I brought up non-nominees there are some things in almost every movie I’d like to see happen. 
 
Airplanes with aisles wide enough to walk down two abreast (with a refreshment cart even) and seats with more legroom than in my living room. Sticking with the travel theme, cruise ships with cabins bigger than my living room. Entire blocks unoccupied in front of the building I want to enter so I can just pull up and park – and never having to parallel park (nobody parallel parks in the movies), and airport parking lots that never charge for parking. Formal wear for casinos. Subways never overcrowded and always on time unless being hijacked. And those telephones that when they are set to vibrate you still know a call is incoming even if you are 3 rooms away. 
 
And – a hot tub time machine. Hey Alexa, let’s kick some past!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Getting Your Money’s Worth

Michael 6 Comments

I went to a hockey game yesterday. My daughter is my usual hockey partner for these games. Hockey is a good bonding experience because we get to experience first-hand that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree especially after a particularly well placed goal, hard fought penalty kill, or extraordinary save, not to mention a rousing Dance for a Dilly Bar competition (so I won’t mention it). It’s also a good bonding experience because we get a good hour or so to ourselves with discussion topics that don’t usually come up in general daily conversation while driving to then sitting in our seats waiting for the puck drop.

For example, last night as we were closing in on our parking lot we noticed several cars in front of us slowing down at each parking entrance, perhaps checking out the remaining offerings or the event rates for that lot, then swerve back into traffic. We get to see this traffic ballet at almost every game but don’t think much of it. Yesterday, though, Daughter mentioned that she and Boyfriend were visiting friends between the holidays and they got caught behind a vehicle doing a similar wagon waltz as they proceeded through a neighborhood behind a driver who would slow down at each intersection, turn enough so his or her headlights illuminated the street sign, then veer back in front of them for another block. We dubbed it the “holiday home party shuffle.”

Another thing we both noted while we were coughing and hacking our mutual germs into the car’s enclosed atmosphere is that if you show up anywhere on the 2nd through 5th of January feeling under the weather you are greeted with “still working out New Year’s Eve are you?” Apparently germs take a holiday during the holidays.

Throughout the game you can track the progress of the team’s charitable foundation’s fifty-fifty raffle. Anybody who has been a parent of a high school sports participant, band member, cheerleader, or theater group is familiar with fifty-fifty raffles. For $5 you get three chances (or maybe 20 chances for $20) on half of whatever the erstwhile organization brings in that night. Having a daughter who was band-centric during her middle and high school years I got to sell lots of tickets and count lots of dollar bills. On a good day at an all-day regional band competition we’d bring in close to $400 and the winner walked away with half of that. I noticed last night’s fifty-fifty take on the same 3 for $5 chance was over $38,000 and the winner got to walk through the parking lot after the game with a check for $19,340. I didn’t hit that one either.

But here is perhaps the most blogworthy thing from last night’s hockey game. I have a half-season season ticket package. That gives me a pair of seats to every other home game. That’s about 20 or 21 regular season games per year. Twenty games is a lot of hockey especially for someone who doesn’t move particularly well without a cane and who still insists on leaping up from his seat whenever anything marginally leapworthy happens. So I go to about half of my alloted games doling out the others to Daughter, Hockey Loving Sister, or the resell market. Here’s what was blogworthy about last night’s game. Over 2+ seasons of just regular season games (since I started tracking this) I’ve been to about 26 hockey games. On two occasions did those games end in regulation time. Last night marked the 24th game I’ve seen that went into overtime.

I might not be hitting the fifty-fifty but I am getting my money’s worth!

greatdayforhockey

Lots of Hockey!

Handicap Hate Crime

Michael 2 Comments

We’ve never actually said who we are, where we are, what we do, and other such identifying characteristics.  It wasn’t necessarily intentional.  It just never came up.  After a few years and a few hundred posts it became something just not said.  This week something happened so heinous we may change that just so we can make sure nobody ever, never, never, ever patronizes a particular store.  But first, a story.  And with apologies, a somewhat longish story.

Recent events have slowed He of We from his usual vibrant self.  There are days when his vibrancy is right up there but none so up there that he can vibe without the help of a cane, and not for more than a couple hundred feet at a time.  Thus he has entered the ranks of the temporary handicapped placard people.

All of We (He, She, Sons and Daughter) have always respected the wheel-chaired icon.  So much respect goes to those who are somewhat diminished but still find it in themselves to continue to work, shop, and play that even now, if He of We finds himself in a particularly good day and there is only one spot outlined in blue, he will leave it for someone else and find a relatively close general parking place.  So much respect goes to those in need that when He sees someone in obvious violation of the perk (for example, the youngster who drops a handicapped person off at the door, tells him or her that he’ll come back to the door for pick-up when he sees him or her emerge from the store, and then goes off to take a handicapped spot to wait at), He of We offers to put said violator in compliance with the rules if he doesn’t move.

But we digress.

Earlier this very week on a particularly trying day, he needed to stop at a local grocery store for a handful of items.  This was not the store he usually patronizes but it was one whose weekly ads he scans for that phenomenal loss leader that makes stopping after work worth the few minutes to wander along the dingy aisles.  This particular store has their handicapped spots around the corner from the main entrance.  Those immediately in front of the store doors are general parking.  Fortunately this store is so poorly patronized that at least one of those spots is always available.  Not that day.  So for the first time he parked in one of the three designated spots around the corner, displayed his placard, struggled out of the driver’s seat, crossed the parking lot, and snatched a buggy on the way in.

He noticed the shopping carts were new from his last visit there.  He also noticed that at the inside of the front of the cart, in the place where most supermarkets would make hay with advertisements, these carried a warning.  Yes, a warning.  “Warning,” it said, “the wheels on this state of the art shopping cart are designed to lock and render the cart immobile if the cart is removed from the security perimeter of [name of store]’s  parking lot.”  He supposed it made some sense.  The store is in an area just as urban as sub and he imagined that many very local shoppers push their laden carts all the way to their apartments and return with them on some future shopping day.  But not his problem.  He had specials to exploit.

He proceeded through the dingy aisles, made his few purchases, paid his bill, and because of the weight of the items purchased, elected to leave the now bagged products in the cart and wheel it to his designated parking spot.  You can see where this is going, can’t you?  He got about five feet from his car, absolutely right in the middle of the travel lane, and the wheels locked.  And boy, did they lock.  That cart was not going anywhere!

It would not budge forward.  It would not budge backward.  There appeared to be no obvious switches.  Worse, there was no audible alarm so no one came running to help (or to prosecute).  Not even the buggy boy who at about 20 feet away was apparently far enough not to hear the plea for help.  So he, in his not fully capacitated state, did what he could do.  He removed his bags, one by one, trekked them to his car, and left the disabled cart right in the middle of the travel lane.

As he pulled away he checked his rear view mirror and saw that the buggy boy had finally noticed the unattended shopping cart and was attempting to corral it back with the rest of the herd.  Actually what he was doing was dragging it, kicking it, slapping its handle, and probably swearing at it but since it was at least 20 feet away from anyone, nobody heard his calls for help.

We think we’ll continue to leave our location a bit of mystery.  Actually, it’s not that much of mystery but in fairness to the store we’ll just stay “those reality blog people” and give the store owners more benefit of a greater doubt than they undoubtedly deserve.  Perhaps the store owners didn’t know that the lot designer had a thing against handicapped people or that the security system installer didn’t realize that those blue spaces around the corner from the entrance would ever actually be used, or that the shopping cart salesperson hadn’t might have bamboozled them with carts that randomly proved their mettle.

We’ll just say that if you are anyplace where the handicapped spots are some 30 to 40 feet from the door and you have to cross the path of 6 to 8 general parking spaces, including 4 that are immediately in front of the entrance, go shop somewhere else.  The $4 savings on 12 K-Cups just isn’t worth it.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Too Much of a Good Thing

Michael Leave a comment

Don’t you just love it when one of life’s questions finally gets answered?  When that thing that has never been at the forefront of thought but always hovering around the subconscious is finally resolved? When you can finally say, “Oh, yeah.”

Both of We have three children.  All three of the Little We’s are in their 20’s, gainfully if not ideally employed, with their own cars, clothes, gym memberships, monthly bills, and spending money.  Three children, two families, one burning life’s question.  Do we do too much for our children?  Sit back and let us tell you She of We’s story.

Number Two Son of She was at the airport.  Just a matter of days ago he was flying west to embark on a weekend away as young ones are now so inclined to do to visit strange cities where the strange inhabitants have a curious habit of dying their river a strange green.  But that’s a tale for a different day.  This one begins and ends at the airport.  Our airport.  The departing city.

This story began several trips ago that Number Two Son of She takes with some regularity.  They are almost always by plane and almost always end up with him missing the last leg of his journey leaving whoever (three guesses) was assigned to collect him at the local airport stranded at the airport.  But it was a habit and one that that seemed would forever end with whomever (three guesses) stranded at the airport or waiting for the call that he is finally about to board a plane home and would be there sometime within the hour or two.  So it wasn’t that He of We would not have expected Son of She to be calling She of We, but not so soon.

But sooner rather than later the call did come and with it came our life’s question, do we do too much for our children. A call that began sort of innocently with a seeming innocent question.  Did She of We have Son of She’s spare car key?  No, but why?

It seemed that after years of explaining, rationalizing, cajoling, complaining, and persuading, She of We convinced Son of She to drive himself to the airport and deposit his car in one of the long term parking lots ($8.00 per day, no hourly rate).  So convinced was Son of She that he actually discovered another traveler among his friends to the very same destination for the very same duration and offered him a ride to and from the airport.  Presumably for the low price of $4.00 per day.  No hour rate.  And off for the airport they set, their sights set on the gate labeled Extended Parking.  They must have not set their sights so high as to see the overhead sign not reading Extended Parking, rather they entered the parking mecca at the gate labeled Short Term Parking ($2.50 per hour, maximum daily rate $25.00).

Yes, he finally was convinced.  Son of She, finally convinced that he could drive himself to the airport did just so, and shortly after his arrival there made the call to She of We.  It was the call from the airport relating this very tale.  But the tale was not told just for its entertainment value.  It concluded with a request for her to drive 20-some miles to the airport with his spare key so that she could move his car into one of the long term lots that she had so often spoke of. And shortly thereafter was the call from She of We to He of We with that question, do we do too much for our children?

Do we?  Daughter of He still lives at home in the very room she shared with her childhood stuffed animals.  And is still sharing.  Number One Son of She resides in a second house of hers that could be rental income but is serving much better as Son Cave as he manages his own growing contracting company.  Number Two Son of She recently purchased his own house, able to convince the mortgager that he was good for it because he is one of the gainfully employed, his gainful employment at the favor calling of She of We who realized long before he what kind of job he would otherwise land with an undergraduate political science degree.

And still they ask.  And still do we.  Do we do too much for our children?  For the record, She of We did not make that journey yet we still wonder.  And we wonder that it is a wonder that someone thought it was quite reasonable even just to ask.  And there probably is the answer.  Maybe.  Possibly. Sort of.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Welcome to 2013. Now Go Away

Michael Leave a comment

Just because we don’t make resolutions until Spring is upon us (See Resolving to Keep it Real, Dec. 31, 2012) doesn’t mean we can’t be urged into encouraging others to change their behavior post haste.  We’ve gotten to experience some horrible behavior that could fill an entire year in only the first week.  And that behavior must stop.

We encountered the one that put us over the edge while we were coming out of the store and walking to our car, some 150 feet from the entrance.  As we approached it, the anything but a gentleman sitting in the car parked next to ours, started beeping his horn.  And then again.  Longer.  And then we saw why.  His certainly long-suffering wife was behind us trudging through the cold and the slush with their packages.  Apparently he felt it more prudent that he stay in the warm car while she goes into the store and buys his wares.  He also felt it more prudent that he sit in the warm car rather than picking her up at the entrance.  He knew she was done with their shopping.  He was honking the horn at her.  There was the extent of his chivalry.  He honked the horn so she didn’t have to wander throughout the lot looking for him.  Then to top things off, he let that car continue to sit in the parking space.  The one that had a snow bank just outside the passenger door.  When She of We said a bit too out loud, “He won’t even back out for her so she doesn’t have to climb through the snow,” the long-suffering wife said, “It’s ok. I’m used to it.”  She shouldn’t have to ever become used to such rude behavior.  So for 2013 he should resolve to figure out how to get along without her because eventually she’ll realize that also.

Other behavior we’d like to see not continued in 2013 is the media fascination with having to title all the news.  No longer are they happy reporting it.  Now they have to make up catch phrases to go along with it.  So please, take your fiscal cliff and go jump off of it.  Otherwise let’s at least have a little fun with it.  Since we’ve either avoided it or fallen off of it depending on what analyst is babbling, it should no longer be part of the evening news’ scripts.  But just in case it should sneak back into common parlance we propose the Fiscal Cliff Drinking Game.  Every time you hear that phrase you must drink a shot then call your congressman. 

Speaking of, and to, Congress, we’d like to see you go away.  You’re not doing anybody any good.  Make you’re next point of business for this session abandonment.  If you don’t have the decency to put yourself out of work, have the decency not to lie to the American people about the work you’re doing.  The “heroic” first vote to avoid the “fiscal cliff” saved the American worker about 20 cents for every $1,000 he or she makes in salary in what was supposed to be the temporary income tax increase.  It did not address the $2 per $1,000 increase in social security and other federal taxes and fees that will be withheld per month in 2013.  That means about $50 less per paycheck if your one of the average Americans getting paid every other week and if all those paychecks up add to $50,000 by the end of the year.

Finally for the fine men, women, and undecided in Washington please do not use 2013 to tell us how many jobs you’ve created.  Unless you also own a company that employs legal American workers you can’t create any.  Leave creating jobs to the business that actually hire, and pay, employees.  Intern and housekeeper positions don’t count.

Something else we’d like to see go away are all those special parking spaces around stores and restaurants.  We love our elder friends and neighbors.  We’ve often said that anybody over 80 can do whatever they feel like.  By then, they’ve earned it.  (See Entitlement Program, March 29, 2012.)  We’d like to see some of those parking spaces reserved for “Mothers to be and mothers of young children,” and for those picking up dinner to go, and even for those with Handicapped placards, turned into spaces for our Older Friends and Neighbors.  The eighty-somethings who are still driving do it well, and they aren’t the ones cajoling their doctors into signing HP applications for their high blood pressure.  Why should they have to walk 300 feet from the lot to the lobby?   Let’s face it, if you’re just running in for dinner, you can afford to run from a few yards away, or bring one of the kids to run inside while you circle the block.  So you’re a mother of young children.  Being parents of former young children from the days when there were no such preferred spots we can tell you our best shopping trips were those with the kids left at home.  Leave them at home.

Now that we are well into the 21st century, a time of unprecedented public protection against ourselves, we want to see the sale of sleds that cannot be steered or stopped stopped.  You can’t by an extra-large, sugary soft drink in New York City but you can put four 7-year-olds on a plastic sleeve, push them down a hill, and wish them luck knowing at the bottom is a 4 lane roadway separated from the top by a dozen 45 year old oak trees.  You can’t buy a lighter that takes at least three steps to ignite to start your grill for the safety of a child who may not understand that it isn’t a candy stick but you can buy an oversized Frisbee that sets the same child spinning uncontrollably on its downhill voyage over the same tree lined hillside.  We love winter sports.  Sledding, skiing, and skating make January and February bearable.  But let’s do it safely.  Nobody would ever put children on bicycles without brakes or a wheel that steers in April.  Let’s say goodbye to the winter version and stop making children headlines on the evening news.

Do we seem a little cranky today?  We’re sorry.  Usually we are quite upbeat and make the most of what we have.   Sometimes you have to take away to have better.  These are some things we like to see taken away.  Do you have others?  Would you like to see Black Friday not start on Thursday?  Is it time to make the baggage, premium seating, and boarding priority fees go away even if it does mean airfares go up?  Can we stop with gas prices that end in tenths of a cent per gallon?  Let us know.  We can be cranky together.  And then, that can go away too.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Walk This Way

Michael Leave a comment

This is it.  Today is the last shopping day before Christmas.   We know tomorrow is only Christmas Eve but you can hardly count that as a shopping day.  Christmas Eve we’re going to relax.  Even if it kills us.  And don’t forget, Christmas Eve is a Saturday this year so every clueless male in America, maybe in the world, (as opposed to almost every clueless male) will be at the mall still unsure of what to get for his wife, mother, girlfriend, daughter, secretary, AA, paramour, clerk, grandmother, personal assistant, or Aunt Whatshername in Mineola. 

However you want to count, there are only two days until Christmas.  And each is going to be filled with people filling sidewalks, and stores, and restaurants, and bars.  Probably especially bars the later it gets but that’s a different post.

All those people out there and sometimes it seems not a single one of them schooled in the pedestrian law of walking in public.  Even He of We sometimes gets a little distracted when allowed to push the shopping cart and wanders down a different aisle than She of We.  But what we’re talking about here is different.  Many people are distracted in stores but add the glitz and the shimmer of the holiday decorations and even those never distracted lose focus.  And the extra traffic isn’t helping.  We think part of the problem is that nobody ever puts that cell phone away.  It wouldn’t be so bad if people were talking on the phone while trying to wind their way through the cosmetics counters at the department store.  No, they are texting while trying to wind their way through that maze.  Add three shopping bags, two trailing children, and a clerk spraying fragrance samples on passersby and oncoming traffic doesn’t stand a chance.  But we digress.

As long as we brought it up, what it is with people and their shopping carts.  First of all, a shopping cart is not a suitable substitute for a wheeled walker, particularly if you don’t use one with which to walk under normal circumstances.  Both of We have informed our children that if any of them sees either of us hunched over a shopping cart, arms resting on the handle about the elbows, propelling it forward at a pace a that would cause a snail to die of boredom, we are to be shot and/or sent directly to the nursing home at the bottom of their lists.  If you are one of those please leave our blog now and nobody will get hurt. 

A shopping carts are proliferating.  Once found only in supermarkets these little wheeled obstructions are now in almost every store across the globe.  Clearly someone is making a killing in the shopping cart market.  Hopefully whoever that someone is has gotten a killer Christmas bonus this year.  But given that shopping carts are flourishing so, we’d think people would be able to drive them better.  We find carts left at the end of aisles, in the middle of aisles, with children left to guard the last of the boxed fruitcake, blocking the animated Christmas hats (sorry, we’ll probably not get to that topic this year but we have it on our list for next year’s holiday posts), and left in the line to the checkout counter with a note that the driver has made a quick trip to housewares and will return at 1:30.  Those actually pushing carts often have their eyes either glued to the top shelf as they pass by at warp speed or on their latest text.

Once shopping is done at Store #1 it is traditional to leave their cart in their custody.  Clearly we must be unaware of some “winter rules” that allow people to keep that cart for their entire shopping day.  He or We was out just yesterday in a local mall and he noticed someone pushing a cart from a store in the shopping center two miles away.  Curious, most curious.   

Eventually even those people will finish up for the day and head to the car with their holiday haul.  Our advice to everybody who ever pushed a shopping cart through a parking lot is to please remember that most cars are bigger and heavier than your shopping cart.  One should not consider playing chicken with a family of four in a minivan loaded with Christmas presents on Christmas Eve Eve.  Not a good idea.  Our second piece of advice is once you empty your packages into your vehicle, please return you cart all the way to the cart corral.  Parking is already at a premium this time of year (we know, we already did that post).  Don’t make it worse by just leaving your cart in the spot that used to be your car.  Walk the extra 50 paces there and back and put it where it belongs.

As long as we’re walking out in the parking lot please watch where you are going.  Every mall and shopping center, every mega-mart and restaurant now have those striped lines from parking land to sidewalk land urging drivers to stop for walkers but not saying anything to the walkers.  It’s true every state now has a law that drivers must yield to pedestrians in a crosswalk.  That’s in a crosswalk, not approaching a crosswalk, close to the crosswalk, or anywhere in the same parking lot as a crosswalk.  It’s still a good idea to look both ways before crossing.  We understand looking both ways may mean not finishing the text but the life you save may be your own.  Make it worth the effort.

Two more days, each an adventure in negotiating through the aisles of the Christmas sale remnants, fighting your way to the checkout counter, and dragging it all across the parking lot to your car, if you can find it on the first try.  

We suggest you relax on Christmas Eve.  Even if it kills you.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Parking Wars

Michael 1 Comment

 

Hello again!  Regular followers following our irregular blog that we routinely post twice a week on Monday and Thursday know that last week we discovered a wealth of topics suggested by the week before Christmas that just can’t wait for a half dozen Christmases to post.  And some of those topics can be discussed in shorter sentences.  So, from then until Christmas you can check us out for our take on the real reality that we keep coming across every day.  You can even go back and read the ones we already posted, or re-read them, or mark them to read later.  And again remember, The Real Reality Show Blog makes a great gift.  It’s absolutely priceless.  We don’t charge a dime!

 

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If there is one thing that we absolutely don’t agree on it is parking.  We can travel thousands of miles together over highways, parkways, back roads, and toll roads for hours at a time and never tire of each other’s company.  But once that trip is over and we have to find a parking space it gets a little stressed.  And during the holiday shopping season when parking lots are filled to overflowing we really get a chance to practice tolerance of one another.  We can agree, disagree, or remain neutral on every other aspect of life from politics to religion to fruitcake but parking is – well, read on.

 

You’d not think the simple act of putting a vehicle away for a while would cause strife but we have very specific ideas of where to park, how to park, what to park next to, and what not to park anywhere near.  He of We is particularly fond of spots in a straight line from the door and with one side protected from other vehicles such as at the end of a row or next to a shopping cart corral.  She of We is happiest when she can pull into a space with another open space directly in front of that one, pull through and avoid backing out when it is time to un-park.  She prefers not to park next to a shopping cart corral.  The end of a row can be tricky.  A row’s end spot offers the one-sided protection he prefers but may be bordered by a raised bed of what’s supposed to be grass or flowers but is usually mud or muck.  This is inevitably on she’s side forcing her to leap muddied waters in a single bound.  He of We is quite happy making a trip down one aisle and up the next in search of a spot that meets his requirements.  She of We spots the most advantageous spot upon entry and heads directly for it.  They are probably all good strategies that might even work together.  But parking time is just not together time for us.  We swoop in getting it done quickly and usually in a spot neither one would select if alone.  Fortunately, we know that as we approach our destination’s door we also approach normalcy and once again we’ll be our usual happy selves. 

 

And it’s not only the act of parking one of our own vehicles that raises ire and eyebrows.  We are quite willing to critique others’ parking practices.  There are as many different methods of parking as there are parkers.  There’s the “The Waiter,” seeking someone loading packages into a parked car, willing to sit in the aisle for as long as it takes for the shopper to load up and move out so he can take that spot.  Even when others are pulling out in two’s and three’s further down the lane, this driver isn’t going to budge.  Closely resembling he who lies in wait is “The Stalker.”  This driver spots someone coming out of the store and follows close behind to claim the spot that will soon be vacated.  Hopefully the shopper isn’t walking all the way home.  Then there is “The Jumping Bean” who pulls into a space, sees someone leaving a spot closer to the store entrance, backs out, drives up, and claims that space.  This can be repeated several times up to and past closing time.  And then there is “Who? Me?”  This opportunistic parker doesn’t wait for a space.  He makes his own spot in the fire lane right next to the store entrance.

 

Who would have thought parking could be such a complex act.  Actually, if you don’t think about it, it isn’t.  But a week before Christmas with spaces at a premium we find ourselves with a lot of time to think while circling the lot looking for any spot available, hoping always for Rockstar Parking.  But that’s a whole different post.

 

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?