Friday, April 24, 2009

Darwinism takes on parking

It was a crazy day at the University Mall. The weather was turning friendly again giving everyone an excuse to indulge in the new summer freedom from things with buttons and long socks and fuzzies and instead buy things that are buttonless, sockless, and fuzziless.

The parking lot was, of course, full, since mall parking lots are always full. But then as I pulled around the corner, I saw a beautiful dream park, only one spot away from the handicap.

It was then that it dawned on me that finding a good parking spot is about more than just parking. Why else would we insist on parking in the really good spot when the weather is kind and it could only be beneficial to walk a few extra feet in charitable sunshine? I know our sedentary lifestyles can get pretty exerting, but really a few more feet? A few more prancing little steps on the only lukewarm asphalt?

The reason is that parking is about more than just parking. There’s a reason why passengers twitch involuntarily when their drivers pass up the good spot.

It’s because parking is about triumph. It’s about success. Parking is survival of the fittest. No one can pass up the good spot because it makes you the alpha parker. You are closer than anyone else, which means that anything that’s going to happen after you park is gonna be good.

Getting the good spot is a success you can brag about it. No good-spot-finder walks hurriedly to their car with their head cast down at the asphalt. They strut, take their time, and dangle their keys with bravado. In a show of mock humility, they can smile, knowing there is probably a pack of thirsty good-spot-scavengers just waiting for them to hurry up and leave.

Then there are those who somehow have all the good spots completely to themselves. They are the ones that guard their territory so ferociously that they will use any means necessary – boot, tow, ticket, torture – to keep you off of it. It doesn’t matter if the lot’s completely empty and its two degrees outside and it’s snowing and you’re in heels and your perfect hair is about to get ruined. It’s theirs. Not yours.

Survival of the fittest.

If only the strong survive, it’s my guess that the first superhuman . . . will be the one that can park.