Dude, Where’s My Car?

That moment when you pull into a parallel parking spot at your children’s school for dismissal and masterfully use your backup cam to reverse towards the car behind you and stop just as your warning is barely on yellow and well before red knowing you have three feet of space between you and the afore mentioned car. The car to your front is a good ten feet away and has another five feet of room to pull up further which would leave space for another car to fit in, which would be nice since the lack-of-street-parking situation at school is laughable, parents are not permitted to park in the faculty lot {a rule many blatantly ignore}, and it’s raining. 

Anyway, as you put your car in park, the car behind you beeps as though you’re too close. You put the car back into reverse but hold the brake pedal to make sure you’re in the clear and see that your bumper is still feet away from his car so you shift back to park and turn off your engine. He steps out of his car, raises his hands in utter disbelief, and the gentleman parked five feet behind him does the same, as if they were signaling each other with some sort of primitive male caveman language, “Can you believe this woman?” “She should learn how to drive!”

As I’m watching this signed conversation in my rearview mirror and twirling my hair, the valley girl voice in my head starts having fun,

“Like, I’m totally sorry I only left you a few feet of room for your car’s personal space! I don’t know WHAT I was thinking! Silly me! I’m just another stay-at-home-soccer-mom with a car that’s WAY too big for me to handle! I’m such a ditz! I even forgot my bumper sticker that boasts about my perfect family and kids’ accomplishments! What ever is a girl to do? Oops! Sorry!” 

And then I punched him in the throat and told him that he should learn how to drive… But not really…

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