It snowed last night, which was bad. For traffic and things like that. But I had my car parked under a carport, so it wasn’t absolutely covered in snow, which was good. Our apartments have covered parking available for a slightly higher than nominal fee. Over the past half-year, we have had Rhiannon’s car parked in the car port because, well, it’s our first car that we bought ourselves and the closest Rhiannon wants to having a child for a while anyway. (If we do have children, we won’t make them sleep in a carport. Who knows, we might even wash them more than every month.)
We haven’t been parking my car under anything, and since we’ve had an unusually warm winter and below-average snowfall, I haven’t had to deal with scraping and brushing too much. Since February, March, and April are traditionally the heavy snow months, we decided to get a space for my car as well.
The posts that support the carports divide them up into two two-space stall and one single space stall. The girls that moved into the apartment next to us didn’t really seem to respect the fact that people actually pay to park in those spaces (and they like to throw loud parties on the weekends, but that is a different topic altogether.) We called our leasing office when they parked in my new space (which they had been using for the past month) and got the sticker on their car that said they would be towed if they parked there again.
In selecting a spot, we also found out that a white truck that parks in two spaces all the time doesn’t pay for either of them. This would not do! While it didn’t directly affect us and our spots, the cosmos will not stand for someone slipping by and performing lewd acts of unauthorized parking right in our very lot. So one night when someone parked in my space, I parked in the bigger of the two spaces the truck normally used.
The small space – imagine the compact spaces in the mall parking lot, the ones that are invariably filled with SUVs because the ratio of SUVs to compacts at a mall is somewhere in the neighborhood of eleventy billion to one (eleventy is a technical term – I went to college, it’s ok), now cut off a few feet. On one side is the a space and on the other side are large crossbeams supporting the carport. Me, in the bigger space, assumed that there was no way they would get their truck in the small space and ha-ha, I didn’t even have to be a jerk and take up both spaces.
I should have been a jerk. I walked out to my car in the morning to find the truck backed in about 3 inches from the crossbeams and 8 inches from my car. They had folded the side mirror in on my car to fit the truck in and were close enough that I had to get in the passenger side of my car to go to work. I was irritated. And curious as to how they got out of the truck since the passenger side was not an option for them. I figured it out when I got to work and saw the three footprints on the hood of my car. I was a little more than irritated. When I got home and saw the truck parked in both spaces, I called them in.
And when Rhiannon got home later and no tag was on the truck, she went and talked to the guy. And he said that they got out the passenger side of truck, of course they wouldn’t step on a car. Rhiannon and I both agree that he was a little less mature than the children she teaches in school. And most likely intellectually inhibited by inhaling too much of a certain illegal substance.
He still parks there – he pays for both spaces. The cosmos are sated. For now.
And we have officially become “those people” in our apartment building. We don’t like loud music, parties, or people parking in spaces they shouldn’t. I think we’re looking for a house this summer.