He vs She and Valet Parking

The easing of strained relations is not apt to occur when it comes to using the valet parking service.

He is absolute in his refusal to relinquish the parking of his beloved car. Rain, snow or ice is not a consideration in his decision.

She would use the valet parking service at the supermarket if it were available. She is similarly passionate in defense of her achy, wet or cold feet and bad hair.

With grinding teeth he acquiesced and handed the valet attendant the keys. His lip quivered as the driver climbed in and pushed the seat back far enough to accommodate a NBA player. He watched until the tail lights faded from sight, sighed, and turned to her with a stormy “I told you so” expression on his face.

She ignores his discomfort. If he thinks he is uncomfortable, he should try hiking three miles from the parking lot in shoes made strictly for admiring. Given the state of his sparsely populated crown, he cannot relate to weather related hairdo disasters.

Waiting for his beloved car leaves him as anxious as waiting for a kidnapped baby during a ransom exchange. He grimaces as squealing brakes hail the arrival of his beloved automobile. The AC/Heat and radio are blaring full blast as the attendant opens the door.

The attendant  takes note of their car’s  license plate number as the tinkle of coins resonates in his hand.

She struggles to open the car door that said attendant ordinarily would thrust open post haste, had paper, not metal crossed his palms.

He: Coins are the reward for abuse of the car.

She: Paper is the preventative for abuse of auto.

And so it goes…….


The Other Woman Next Door

Last week I wrote about my perceptions about the woman next door. Here’s what the woman next door might assume about me:

The man next door lugs recyclables to the curb every Wednesday. It is a noisy wake up call. How can one couple consume two bags full of glass recyclables?

I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. “Is this vodka bottle empty?” he asked holding a gallon glass jug for further scrutiny. “Are you nuts”, the woman retorted. “What idiot would put a bottle of potato vodka in the trash if it contained even a smidgen of vodka?”

Anyone who gets that bent out of shape over the remaining residue in a vodka bottle has issues. Or, she could be one of those nuts who refuses to purchase anything in plastic containers.

The woman appears every morning to add to the recycle bin. Her early morning appearance suggests a night of debauchery. Her hair stands in all  directions and her attire is disgraceful. She probably has those big sunglasses on for a reason. I’m surprised the poor thing can make it to the recycle bin.

Aside from her possible addiction issues, the woman is sneaky, but I’m onto her.  HOA’s forbid outdoor clothes lines in our neighborhood. She installed hers slightly lower than her privacy fence. Every week her laundered bath towels flap in the breeze to air dry. She is probably too cheap to put them in the dryer. I’ll bet she forces that poor man to use coarse bath towels so she can buy vodka.

I suppose there is an outside chance she could be a tree hugger. Based on her early morning presentation, I’m going with lush.


Parking Hell

Parking in Dallas shopping centers can be hell, especially when the temperature range approximates that particular location. Braving the heat to run a quick errand, the parking god was with me and I located a spot in front of the store.

Returning ten minutes later, my car was barely visible hidden between an oversized SUV and Hummer. There was barely enough room to open the door as I scrunched myself into the driver’s seat.


My Honda is an ordinary, middle aged car. I am willing to overlook a few minor shortcomings. I have made peace with its uncomfortable bucket seat and over time it reluctantly made peace with mine. The car understands in exchange for a loving home, it is to reciprocate by getting me to where I need to go. Thus far the agreement has worked out just fine.

My car does not have a rear view camera. I slowly backed out of the parking spot, unable to see oncoming traffic on either side. I felt relief as I slipped out of the tight situation without scraping the adjacent giant’s doors. Just as I was about to be home free, another oversized SUV waiting to grab my spot, was nose to nose with my car and would not move.

At that moment, I would have traded a month’s supply of vodka to morph into a transformer. Frantic gesturing and mouthing registered and they moved to allow me to pass. Parking karma struck swiftly as there was no way their vehicle was going to fit into the spot I vacated.

People who drive behemoth, gas guzzlers are increasing in numbers. Their sense of entitlement is offensive.

The only entitlement they deserve is to park in the remote hinterland of the shopping center.