Parking Vultures

Having one’s foot cut open has it’s drawbacks but it has served me well in the kid retrieval department.

For the last several days, as long as there’s been some form of precipitation upon which to blame my sloth-like tendency and fear of wetting the wound, and I’ve been able to put some form of an act together in time to steal a parking space in view of the rear door of my son’s school before the parking vultures have picked clean every last morsel of space, I’ve managed to spot my kid and waved him in from the comfort of my climate-controlled, WNYC Soundcheck-infused driver’s seat, and thereby avoided the physical and mental pain associated with my awkward debarkation, hobbling forth and back, fielding of foot-related concerned inquiries, and moistened embarkation.

During these blissful days of car-enclosed pickups, disturbing phenomena have I witnessed.

1) Regardless of my time of arrival, the same cars remain parked in the same spots, in the same order, containing the same drivers (presumably nannies, because what working or non-working parents have this amount of extra time on their hands to park 25/30/35/40 minutes prior to the end of the school day?–then again, they could all be NYC alternate side of the street parking expats the way they position their vehicles with such Swiss clock precision).

2) Prime eastern side of the street spaces fill fast and furiously. In fact, while parked in my optimum spot, I witnessed the driver of a revolting, gargantuan, gas guzzling, pollution spewing, space invading SUV kill five minutes and 37 seconds to navigate a 37-point turn from a spot directly across the street just to avoid having to walk the three extra strides.

3) Despite clearly delineated rules of engagement governing the pick-up/drop-off zone, “drivers” (or as I like to call them MFs*) continue to stop short, exit driver’s side (in full violation of R.O.G.), retrieve/send off kids with gooey hugs and kisses and “I love you’s,” just to jam up the rest of us and display to the world their devil-may-care, unrivaled, unconditional love of their children. Rules, MFs, rules!

Since the stitches came out today, my days of kid getting from car cocoon are numbered. But God bless my boy for humoring me these last two weeks.

*Rhymes with Fuddruckers.

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