Round and around we went, up one row, down another and then back again in what seemed an endless circle. We’d arrived two hours early for our mid-morning flight and thank goodness we did. Finding a perfect parking space is a “must-have” item for hubby, and he’ll drive around until we find it. He is not easily deterred from this quest.
“Look!” I called out, trying to forestall another circle. “Is it a spot?” he asked excitedly. “No,” I replied “but the sign ahead says this level is full. Let’s go up one floor. I’ll bet a great space is up there just waiting for us.”
“I’m sure the sign is wrong” he countered. “We’ll find the one open space on this level; and it will be right next to the bridge across to the terminal. I am the ‘parking spot king’ after all.”
And so it went, as it usually does. The additional time I had carefully built into our pre-boarding was fast dwindling. Ten minutes later and we were still on the same floor of the parking garage, scouring each row with deliberation and determination. And, just when I thought he was ready to concede, my adorable guy ventured “I want to go around once more, okay? I just know we’ll find it this time. Besides, we have plenty of time.” With a sigh and a covert roll of my eyes, I resigned to do what he wanted.
Funny thing though, more often than not, he finds that elusive perfect parking spot. Which brings me to why I am practically obsessed with just parking anywhere and hastily getting to our gate.
Everyone has their “thing.” My mother, for example, was preoccupied with arriving at church each Sunday nearly an hour before the service was due to start. No matter that we lived less than five minutes away. Her concern was not with being late for the church service. No, her obsession was arriving before our next-door neighbor Mrs. Wilson so that she could secure the best pew, right up front. I can still see the look of alarm on her face should, God forbid, her nemesis get there first.
My dad was happy to go along with mom’s obsession for arriving super early because his “thing” was making sure that his newly washed and waxed Oldsmobile sedan was parked right at the church steps. He did have an image to maintain after all.
And, if he has a “thing,” finding that perfect rectangular area bound with parallel white lines is my hubby’s holy grail. The criteria are clear: it must be right at the entrance to wherever we are going, preferably just a few feet away from the door. Taking an additional five or ten minutes to drive round and round is a normal part of every outing or shopping experience.
By contrast, and in my experience, women don’t drive round and round, endlessly searching for that “perfect” space. Probably because we just don’t have the time. With all of the balls we keep in the air, having to walk a few extra feet to accomplish what we need to do is just not that big a deal. We get wherever we are going, park the car and get the task done.
As I consider these behaviors a bit more, it occurs to me that maybe I was simply born with my “patience gene” missing and that being an “A to B” kinda gal is my “thing.” By way of example, when I pull into a parking lot, I pick a row, survey my options, choose a spot and park. Easy peasy. Unless it’s raining, of course, then all bets are off.
So, who’s right? Good question. I’d like to think we all are. Right or wrong, we each have our “thing.” My parents ingrained in me a need to be on time - ok, maybe super, obsessively early. That’s my thing. For his part, hubby is on a constant quest for the perfect parking spot. The challenge of finding it makes him happy, and while it’s sometimes exasperating, seeing him succeed makes me happy too.
My parents have long since passed but I do have visions of them both behind the pearly gates, my mom in her pew right up front and my dad eternally parked in a spot reserved just for him.
© 2024 Annie Sokoloff
Comments