Unfortunately, this time of the year tends to bring out the bitchiness in most people. Everybody’s in a hurry, and nobody’s willing to wait. Just try going to a mall parking lot on any given weekend during the month of December, and you might find yourself begging your doctor for some Xanax. Locating and securing a parking place then is like striking gold, and you better flip that freakin’ turn signal on fast if you think you’re getting a spot. It’s do or die, snooze, and you lose. I experienced this exact same parking predicament back when I was pregnant with my twins. I’m telling you, mix some very limited parking with some raging hormones, and you’ve got yourself one molotov cocktail.
When I was walking around all knocked up six and a half years ago, we didn’t have the luxury of “Expectant Mother” parking spaces like they do now days. Back then, you had to buck up and stake out a space just like all the other peeps out there. On this one particular Christmas shopping excursion, my hubby was adamant that he was going to get a spot close to the mall so I wouldn’t have to waddle my fat ass very far. And so, we sat, and we waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, the stars aligned, the angels sang, and we actually saw someone pulling out of their spot. We immediately put on our turn signal to claim what was rightfully ours by the unwritten law of parking etiquette. However, just as that car was backing out, another car came zipping down the aisle in the other direction. This a-hole completely ignored the fact that we were already there waiting and zoomed right into the parking space without a care in the world.
My husband was having absolutely none of this. He was LIVID and determined to fight for his right to park. He dismissed my pleads of protest and jumped out of the car to confront the other driver, who just so happened to be a woman. There was a lot of yelling and gesturing going on, so I decided to roll down my window to find out just what in the hell was going down. I suddenly heard my husband yell, “But my wife is PREGNANT!“, to which the other driver responded, “Well, so am I!” I tried to motion to my husband to call off the firing squad, but he was already screeching, “Well, my wife is pregnant with TWINS!!!!” We had apparently gotten into a game of “My mama’s bigger than your mama”. I tried as hard as I could to slither my way down in my seat to avoid further embarrassment, but my torpedo belly wouldn’t allow for even the slightest bit of slithering. My husband finally came flying back into the car, as the other car was backing out of the parking space. Much to my astonishment, the biz-natch had actually conceded to my husband! We pulled into the spot and did a little happy dance to celebrate our victory.
Flash-forward to two weeks later when we’re in our breastfeeding class at the hospital. Naturally, we were late and picked one of the last empty tables in the classroom. A few minutes later, another couple waltzed into the room and took the only remaining seats left. I glanced up just in time to see that the woman sitting down next to me was none other than the parking lot princess — yes, it seemed that the bitch was back. My palms were sweaty, and I suddenly felt like I was in a Seinfeld episode where everything came full circle. I had visions of us throwing down right then and there, just two beached whales going at it in a room full of boobs. To my surprise, though, the chick had absolutely no recognition whatsoever of neither me nor my husband. She was truly just a pitifully clueless human being.
I guess when it comes to optimum parking spots, people are willing to bust out the old fistacuffs when and if necessary, especially during the holiday season. Baby on board or not, it seems that it’s all about location, location, location. The less steps we have to take to reach the mall, the better. After all, ’tis the season to be lazy, ya know.