Parking Bully

No posts in December? For shame Aaron! I'm getting behind in my story telling. Next week I think I'll write about my scooter repair in Chicago, but there is no time for that now. For today, just a little parking vignette.
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"My apologies for bullying you out of that parking space," I say to the gentleman holding open the door to the gym. "I admit to becoming a bit aggressive at times."

"Think nothing of it," he replies. "I was just being lazy--glad to let you have it."

My gym (health club?), where I go every Sunday morning (I try to go at least one other day, but on Sunday it is a solid part of my routine) is on a busy county road. It is only two lanes, but cars proceed briskly. There is a parking lot with handicapped parking, of course, but there are four spaces on the street right in front of the entrance. Across the street there is also on-street parking and a large parking lot at the catering hall. When possible, I grab one of the on-street parking spaces which are closer than the handicapped spots in the parking lot. Even the on-street parking across the street saves a few steps, but I'm glad Laura has never witnessed me J-walking across North Avenue with my walker, stopping all the traffic.

Two Sundays ago I rounded the corner by the catering hall and saw that the furthest in-front, on-street parking space--the one just before the yellow-painted curb--was free. Good fortune! But as I turned left onto North Avenue, another car pulled up next to the yellow curb, and was about to back into my space. I quickly pulled up next to the space and slightly behind the poor driver who was probably just savoring his parking coup, and hung my blue hanging handicapped parking tag from my rear view mirror with a little flourish.

The other car quickly pulled out, ceding the prized parking space, and slipping into the caterers lot. He crossed the street just in time to hold the door open for me, and graciously receive my apology for being a bully.

I'm not sorry.