Driven Crazy in the Hunt for That Perfect Parking Place

Carrying my packages from the mall one Saturday, I was walking back to my car when, all of a sudden, I heard the noise of car engines behind me. When I turned to look, I saw three cars lined up and moving slowly forward in the parking lot. When I stopped, they stopped. When I walked ahead a few feet, they edged forward.

Sadist that I am, I quickly cut across one row of parked cars. Before I knew it, there they were again, hovering like buzzards. I speeded up once more and dashed across four rows. I heard wheels screech, and when I turned, they were still following me in a parade lineup. I couldn’t resist any longer: I removed my keys from my pocket and gently dangled them at my side. I felt like a matador in a bullfight.

After I approached several more vehicles that weren’t mine, I climbed to the upper-level lot where my car was really parked. I heard their revved engines one last time and a dust cloud rose as my entourage pulled away in disgust. As I watched, they raced toward the next woman carrying her packages out of the mall.

You’ve probably noticed that getting the closest space to the front door is a competitive sport in Los Angeles. To many, the parking lot has become the final frontier. It’s one of the few wide-open spaces left to be conquered--and we all want our piece.

I’m convinced that this pent-up desire begins on the freeway. On most days, these drivers have been cooped up for hours as they inch their way through SigAlert after SigAlert.

Physically, they are trapped, held hostage by the cars around them. But mentally they pace like tigers in the zoo, waiting for the next chance to be free. Once they exit the freeway, all that energy and lust for power comes to life. But they can’t very well do 90 m.p.h. down Los Angeles Street.

So with Rocky-like determination, they pull into the nearest parking lot and quickly scope out the competition. There’s a sense of exhilaration: They are now free to maneuver, able to drive down any lane they choose.

They will no longer permit their cars to be crowded into just any old vacant spot. They’re going after the best space on the lot, and they’re going to get it--no matter how long it takes.

Time isn’t an issue. When they were sitting on the freeway, they couldn’t tolerate wasted minutes. But now that they are in control of their own destiny, things have changed. Getting the nearest parking space is worth the wait.

This is the one place where they know they can win. Here all cars are created equal and the competition is more like California real estate: Location is everything.

But then that rare California creature appears: The pedestrian--moving from car to car, toying with drivers: “This is my car . . . just kidding. . . . This is my car . . . no, no. . . .”

But the beast soon disappears as I get into my car and become one of Them.

Just what will it take to satisfy Us?

It’s the moment when we arrive at our destination and are able to pull right into The Parking Space.

I must confess that I’ve often envied the triumphant looks of those drivers when they first emerge from their cars. Plastered all over their faces is the sentiment, “Yes, life is good.”

Ah, but wait until you get ready to leave that space and cars line up just for you.

Life, I assure you, gets better.