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Thursday, April 17, 2008


Evil Does Exist

I've bitched before about the colossal, soul-sucking pain-in-the-taint that is New York City parking. The "street-cleaners" that merely swirl the dirt around a bit and force us to move our cars back and forth, from one side of the street to the other, day-in and day-out, world without end, amen. The forty-five minute drives around the block at six o'clock in the morning, panicking that you're not going to find a space before you have to leave for work. The massive ticket that awaits you should you fuck up and forget to move.

This parking hell is made all the more sulfurous and itchy by the things that keep you from being able to move your car where it ought to go. Things like the terrible uncertainty over whether you are far enough away from the hydrant to avoid getting a ticket. Things like some yahoo that's double parked right beside you, trapping you in the spot you're in while you watch all the available spaces on the other side of the street disappear one by one. Things like a space that is maybe a foot too short to accommodate your vehicle.

But it's made completely intolerable when you see someone purposefully fuck his fellow parkers.

Like I saw this afternoon. Walking home from the 134th Street station. A couple of hundred yards from my front door. I see a nice space, sitting open and inviting. A guy gets in a shiny red car directly behind said space. I think, "Awesome! This fella's pulling out, which will make it even easier to grab this spot and then forget all about this wretched car-moving business until Earth Day!"

Then, just as everything's seeming right with the world, the fucking prick pulls his shiny red car forward just enough that he's taking up both spaces. No room for a vehicle in front or in back of him.

I've got to say, my faith in humanity was shaken. Who does this shit? You know what? If your precious car is so fucking delicate and you're so scared that someone might give it a fucking boo-boo, pay to put the goddamn thing in a garage! I've never once had the urge to key someone's car. But the thought did sneak its way into my brain pan when I saw this walking pile of donkey shit step out, look to make sure that he'd successfully blocked anyone from breathing wrong on his princess-mobile and then lock up and walk away. I used to think cell phone salesmen were the lowest form of life, but I'm not sure.

You should've have keyed his car. Or done a belly-flop on the hood. I did that once and it was fantastic.
Or do that thing New Yorkers are known for and confront the douchebag.
Holy crap. I took my first trip to NYC last week and ended up driving around the neighborhood at 125thish, Broadway and Riverside Drive (I think) trying to find a parking spot for just a couple of minutes. I finally gave up and parked at the McDonalds at Broadway and 125th (I think) and hoped that I didn't get busted for not going in to buy something.

I'm out of practice with that while thing.

I would have wanted to key that guy's car, for sure. What a fucker.
I would have maybe keyed it, just a little.
Dude's a douche- he's totally asking for retribution.
Oh, hey, you know what I'd do? Move to the suburbs, dummy!
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